He repeated his pat phrase. “I see. Well, I’d like to admit you for some tests anyway.”
I shook my head. “I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to do that.”
“Mister Gant, it’s important that you realize the risk this could pose. If you are bleeding internally…”
“I’m not,” I said, cutting him off and waving at my neck. “Remember? All the blood was on the outside.”
He sighed hard. “What is it going to take to convince you to stay overnight for some tests?”
“Nothing you have, I’m afraid,” I told him. “Seriously, you aren’t going to find anything.”
The doctor turned and looked past Ben at Felicity. “Miz Gant… Can you talk to your husband?”
She didn’t correct him on the faux pas with her name. She simply shook her head and shrugged. “What makes you think he’ll listen to me then?”
The doctor closed his eyes and hung his head for a moment before giving it a shake and letting out another sigh. “Fine. I can’t make you stay against your will,” he said then checked the nearly depleted IV bag hanging above me. “But, I do want you to stay until we get the rest of this fluid into you. That will take maybe fifteen or twenty minutes. Can you spare that much time?”
“Okay,” I agreed with a nod.
“I’ll get your paperwork taken care of and then you can go. I’d like to suggest that you get some rest and stay hydrated. Avoid alcohol, coffee, soda, and caffeinated beverages. Drink water and apple juice instead. I would also like for you to take an iron supplement. An over-the-counter one will do.”
I nodded again. “Okay.”
He continued. “If you experience any extreme fatigue, headaches, heart palpitations, or especially any more bleeding, get yourself into an emergency room right away.”
“I can do that,” I replied.
He scribbled something on the chart then stepped around Ben and exited the treatment room without another word. It was obvious he wasn’t happy with the way the conversation had gone, but I was convinced he’d get over it quickly enough. There was bound to be someone coming through the doors at some point who needed his attention far worse than me.
While we were waiting for the IV bag to run out, Ben looked over at Felicity and said, “I s’pose now wouldn’t be a good time ta’ say I told ya’ so, huh?”
“I told you so about what?” she asked.
“Ya’know, the sayin’ a poem thing with the salt before Row did the Twilight Zone thing.”
“Aye, you’re right.” She nodded thoughtfully.
“Yeah, I thought you might’ve wanted ta’…”
She cut him off mid sentence. “I mean you’re right that it isn’t a good time.”
“Yeah, okay, but I did tell you so.”
“Ben…” she warned. “I’d hate to have to turn you into a cockroach and step on you.”
He snorted and gave her a bemused look. “Yeah right, gimme a break. Remember who you’re talkin’ to here. I’ve been around long enough to know the hocus-pocus shit doesn’t work like that.” He glanced over at me. “Right, Kemosabe?”
I shook my head. “You know, Ben, you might want to be careful. After what she managed to pull off back at the morgue, I wouldn’t put anything past her.”
“You ain’t serious, right?”
“About which part?” I asked.
He let out a nervous chuckle then mumbled, “Yeah, great… Okay…” After a long pause, he cleared his throat while reaching up to give the back of his neck a quick massage. “So, listen… I know you’re just fuckin’ with me, but at the risk of endin’ up on the bottom of Firehair’s shoe anyway, I need to ask ya’ somethin’… The powers that be wanted ta’ know if you’d take another run at this.”
“What?!” Felicity almost yelped. “Are they fekking insane?”
“Don’t worry,” he said, holding up his hand to stave her off. “I told ‘em I’d ask, but I also told ‘em not ta’ count on it. So, no pressure from me here at all. Believe me.”
As soon as a lull fell between them I spoke up. “Yeah. Tell them no guarantees, but I’ll give it a try.”
“Rowan…” Felicity admonished.
“Hey… Row…” Ben chimed in, shaking his head. “Like I said, I told ‘em to expect a no.”
“So they’ll be pleasantly surprised, and maybe you’ll score some brownie points.”
“That ain’t what this is about,” he insisted.
“I know that,” I replied. “But I also know-and both of you do too-that until we solve this, Emily Foster’s spirit isn’t going to leave me alone. I can bleed there with a doctor on hand, or I can bleed at home without one. Either way, it’s pretty obvious that it’s going to happen whether I like it or not.”
“Aye, maybe not. I think she got the point earlier,” Felicity objected.
“Maybe you’re right,” I said with a nod. “Who knows? But where does that leave Judith Albright?”
“Damn your eyes,” Felicity conceded.
“Sorry.”
“Okay, you’re right,” she offered. “But before you try this again, we take more precautions.”
“Agreed. What did you have in mind?”
“Maybe you oughta go ahead and say a poem first this time,” Ben interjected.
My wife shot him a death glare but didn’t take the bait. “I haven’t figured that out yet,” she said as she looked back to me.
“Well, we have a little time to think about that,” I told her. “Because before we do anything I need to eat.”
“Yeah, I could definitely eat,” Ben said with a nod. “You wanna grab somethin’ at Forty’s, or would ya’ rather keep your distance from the morgue until you’re ready?”
“I don’t really care as long as it’s someplace that serves liver and onions,” I replied.
“Liver? Jeez… I dunno how you eat that shit.”
“With a knife and fork,” I quipped.
“Yeah, real funny, Row,” he returned. “I mean it tastes like crap.”
“Well, that’s a matter of opinion, but I admit I don’t usually crave it like I am today.”
“You’re cravin’ the stuff? Hmmph. Well maybe it’s leftover Twilight Zone screwin’ up your taste buds.”
“Why do you say that?”
He shrugged and gave me a thoughtful nod. “Oh yeah, I don’t guess I told you about that yet. Doc Sanders is still waitin’ on the labs, but she did get a read back on Emily Foster’s stomach contents. Looks like her last meal was beef liver.”
As I’d predicted earlier, we found ourselves at the Metro Diner because it was the closest establishment in the downtown area that could accommodate my sought after menu selection. Ben’s recently shared revelation had actually taken the edge off my craving, most likely because he was correct in his assumption that there was an ethereal element to it, and Emily Foster’s last meal was the culprit at the root.
Still, even with my desire for the dish having been substantially dampened, I had worked up a taste for it. Besides, the doctor wanted me to take an iron supplement, and liver was loaded with the stuff.
As it turned out, I wasn’t disappointed. The liver was fork tender and swimming in gravy with a generous helping of caramelized onions sitting on top. The mashed potatoes were lumpy just like homemade, and the pile of buttered green peas next to them was a culinary imperative.
Something was finally going my way for a change, which was a good thing because deep down I knew this sudden stroke of luck wasn’t going to last.
CHAPTER 25:
“You get enough?” Ben asked, giving me a quick nod.
