why I've arranged for you to-'
'I wish to stay in the hospital for another week or so, ' she said.
'Then I should be ready to go home.'
'Mrs. Doucette, you didn't let me finish. I was saying that I'm in the process of arranging a bed for you at the Sterling Nur-uh, convalescent facility. A couple of weeks there, and you should be ready to go home.'
'I won't go, ' Annie said flatly, sitting up in bed to confront the man.
'You are not going to stick me in any nursing home. I shall stay here for one more week, and then I shall go to my own home.'
'I'm afraid that's not possible, Mrs. Doucette.'
'Well, ' she said, 'I'll just speak with Mr. Frank Iverson, and we'll see what is possible and what is not.'
'Feel free to do that if you wish, Mrs. Doucette. But Frank Iverson is not taking care of you. I am. And I am telling you that your hospitalization is about to run out and you will not be able to remain here for another week. That is the rule. In fact, it is one of the rules Frank Iverson is paid to uphold. Now, please calm down and try to realize that what I'm doing is in your best interests.' Before she could respond, Annie felt another stab beneath her breastbone. Under the sheet, her fists clenched. 'You're not a very good doctor, you know,' she managed finally. 'You not only don't take very good care of yourself, you don't take very good care of your patients, either.'
Donald Norman glanced back at Doreen Lavalley, his face flushed with anger and embarrassment. The old woman was a goddamn harpy, there were no two ways about it. Not only was she jeopardizing a hefty set of bonus points for him, but she was making him look like a goddamn asshole in front of Doreen, as well. 'Mrs. Doucette, ' he said sternly, 'we'll discuss this later. Meanwhile, lie back and get some rest. Doreen, come with me, please.'
He turned on his heel and stalked from the room. The nurse looked down at Annie and shrugged helplessly. 'I'll be back a little later, ' she said. 'I want her to get some Valium, ' Norman ordered when they were out of earshot. 'No, no, on second thought, make it Haldol, one point five by mouth every eight hours. Give her the first dose now.'
Doreen Lavalley hesitated. Norman smiled at her and patted her on the shoulder. 'Hey, Doreen, don't worry, ' he said. 'This is absolutely routine stuff. Nobody wants to go to a nursing home, but some people have to. And listen, I didn't get to be chief of staff in this system by not caring about my patients. If anything, I care too much. 'Believe me, it's all for the best. The Haldol will calm her down, and by this evening she'll be a thousand times easier to reason with. You just watch. Okay?… Now, about my in-service talk next Thursday. What do you say we… '
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The 1938 fleet monoplane cut through the warm midday air like an arrow, soared over the dense forest panoply and then across the broad, grassy field. It dipped and looped like a yo-yo, barrel rolling again and again, sunlight exploding off the hand polished, crimson butyrate paint of its wings. At the far edge of the meadow it nosed upward, streaking toward a solitary puff of cloud in an otherwise flawless sky. From his spot on a large boulder, Zachary watched intently as his fingers, through minute movements of the stick atop his radio control, choreographed the flight. A stall, a spin, a roll out, a second pass over the field, Zack had built the Fleet as a high schooler, and although he had sometimes gone a year or more without the opportunity to fly her, he had kept the engine and the finish in perfect condition.
With a final, wide bank, he eased the model upwind and set her down sweetly in the grass. The plane was, as always, fascinating to watch, and this day, with any luck, she would be more than just a hobby. This day, she would be a toot to help him unlock the tortured silence of a young boy. 'Hey, Ace, that was a nifty piece of flying.'
Suzanne, dressed in snug white shorts and a Dartmouth T-shirt, stood on a small rise, looking as if she might have just drifted down from the sun. She had a plaid blanket draped over one arm and a wicker picnic basket hanging from the other. 'You know, ' he said, squinting up at her, 'about twenty minutes ago I started getting this funny feeling you might show up.'
'Do we have time for lunch?
' she asked, making her way down the slope. Zack glanced at his watch.
'About forty-five minutes. I'm glad you're here.' Suzanne stretched on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the mouth. 'Me, too,' she said.
'Can I set this food out, or is Cheap dog lurking somewhere? '
'No, no. Mop-face and the Fleet out there are avowed enemies. Sort of like sibling rivalry. He's home digging up the yard.'
She spread the blanket and set out dishes of fried chicken, smoked fish, and salad. Then she extracted a small portable radio, set it on the grass, and fiddled with the dial until she found WEVO. The announcer was thanking his guests for participating in Midday Roundtable and inviting listeners to stay turned for a special edition of Music of the Masters.
'You must think I'm a little crazy for the way I've been acting around you, ' she said as she poured lemonade. 'I wanted to apologize. Zack shrugged. 'No need, ' he said. 'You've had a few more important things to deal with than me.'
'Perhaps. Just the same, I've been acting like a jerk, and I'm sorry.'
He reached over and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. 'Fair enough, ' he said. 'If that's what you need, then apology accepted. There, do you feel better?'
'Zack, I… I want to explain.'
'Hey, I don't require any-'
'No, I want to.' She studied her hands. 'At least I think I do.'
For much of the night she had sat with Helene, struggling to come to grips with the past. 'Nothing matters except the truth, ' her friend had said. 'Nothing matters except how you really, truly feel. Right here, in your gut. I go out the way I do, see men the way I do, because I honestly know, in my heart, that I hate being alone. Otherwise I'd stay at home or join the Ammonoosuc Valley Quilters. Believe me I would. You don't have to do it my way, or anyone else's way for that matter, but your own, Suze. But-and it's a big but-you can't keep fighting your feelings. You can't fight who you are. If you think you care about the man, tell him who you are, where you've been. If he can deal with it, fine. If he can't, that's his problem.'
It all had made so much sense while they were talking. Now, Suzanne was not so sure. There was more than a little to be said for living the safe life. The meadow, abutting the low hills southwest of town, glowed verdant and golden in the dry afternoon sun. For a time they ate in silence, save for the deep, cultured voice of the WEVO announcer, who was extolling the virtues of an English composer whose name Zack missed.
'Zachary, ' Suzanne said suddenly, 'the other night was the first time I've made love in more than three years.'
'Well, you certainly haven't gotten rusty, ' he replied. 'I would also guess that whatever the reason for those three years of celibacy, it wasn't a lack of offers.'
She smiled at him wistfully. 'You're sweet. Actually, there haven't been that many. I haven't been able to trust any man enough even to be encouraging.' 17 'If you're trying to make me feel special, you're doing a great job. 'You are special… Zack, my husband-my ex-husband-did an incredible hatchet job on my life, and then left me for dead. The scars that formed just don't seem to want to heal. I don't put all the blame on him for what happened. I could have put my foot down when I figured out what was going on. I could have gotten out. But I stayed. I always told myself it was for Jen, but looking back, I realize that I simply couldn't admit to myself how blind I had been- how badly I had misjudged the man I had married. And I couldn't accept that he didn't care enough about me to change.'
'You were young.'
'Twenty-three, if you call that young. And not a very worldly twenty-three at that. Paul was a Ph. D. Brilliant, handsome, charming as hell. Already an associate professor at thirty-five. Every woman in school had a crush on him. Unfortunately, what they didn't know what I didn't know-was how sick he was inside. He was a sociopath, Zachary. A womanizer, a drug addict, and a glib, an unbelievably glib liar. He used me. In every way imaginable, he
