her ex-husband and she never took it off. I thought about my own husband downstairs getting sicker by the moment as he attempted to extricate Louise from a morass of her own making and felt my gorge rise again.
When finally she was safely in bed for the night, I started out of the room.
“Your husband is much kinder than you,” she said.
“Agreed,” I said, without turning.
“At least have the decency to look at me when we’re talking,” she said.
I walked back to the acre of bed in which Louise lay, her thin, pale arms resting on the duvet, the platinum cuff bracelet gleaming dully in the light from the lamp on her bedside table.
“Why do you hate me?” she asked.
“I don’t hate you, Louise. I’ve just seen your act before – many, many times. My mother was an alcoholic. Now if there’s nothing else…?”
She waved me off. I turned and saw that Declan was standing in the doorway. When I walked past him, I squeezed his arm. “You heard that?” I asked.
He nodded. “Do you ever get over it?”
“No, but you do finally realize it’s not your fault.” I met his eyes. “Declan, call if you need me. I mean that.”
“Thanks,” he said. He shrugged. “Well, guess I’d better check on my mum.”
Zack was in the hall zipping his jacket when I went downstairs. “Declan found you?”
“He did. Louise’s needs have been met. Let’s get out of here.”
Zack took his gloves from his pocket. “I appreciate this, Jo.”
I zipped my coat. “So how did it go with Paul Usher?”
“A happy ending for Mr. Usher. Declan took him to the bus station, bought him a ticket to Kamloops, and gave him $1,000 spending money.”
“Kamloops seems like a pleasant place to recuperate from injuries,” I said.
“Funny thing about those injuries,” Zack said. “Declan tells me they disappeared the second Mr. Usher pocketed Louise’s cash.”
“You think he’ll be back for a second instalment?”
Zack shrugged. “Probably, but not tonight, and that’s all I care about. I’m bushed.” He opened the door and rolled out into the darkness.
While Zack was showering, I turned on our electric blanket. I would turn it off again before we settled for the night, because Zack’s paraplegia made him susceptible to unfelt injuries. Then I called Henry Chan. He had been Zack’s doctor when we met, and when my MD retired, Henry took on Taylor and me. I liked him. His wife, Gina Brown, was a nurse-practitioner, and together they had created an office that was both welcoming and efficient. The magazines in the reception room were current, the walls were bright with photos and drawings from kids, and the wait times were acceptable. Henry and Gina were a good team: easygoing and knowledgeable. They also lived two blocks from us, and we’d been involved in enough neighbourhood activities together for me to call their home that night without feeling guilty. When I heard Henry’s voice, I felt my pulse slow.
“I know you don’t make house calls,” I said, “but I was hoping you could drop by on your way to the office tomorrow. Zack has the flu. He has a temperature, his breathing is laboured, and he has a wicked cough. I’m doing the usual or trying to, but I’d like you to look at him.”
“I’ll stop by tomorrow morning but, Joanne, if he gets worse in the night, take him to Emergency. The paraplegia complicates things. Zack doesn’t have the resistance an able-bodied person would have.”
“I like to think of him as indestructible,” I said.
Henry heard the fear in my voice, and he was reassuring. “Basically, Zack is very healthy, I just want you to take precautions because he’s one of the few guys I can consistently beat in poker.”
“That’s not the way he tells it,” I said.
Henry chuckled. “We’re all the heroes of our own epics. But let’s keep an eye on this. See you in the morning.”
Zack’s skin was pink from the shower when he came back into the bedroom. “You look better,” I said.
“I just need some sleep,” he said. “Who was that on the phone?”
“Henry Chan.”
Zack wheeled towards the bed. “So what did Henry want?”
“To see you.”
Zack cocked his head. “Professionally?”
“Yes,” I said, “but his profession, not yours. He’s coming over tomorrow morning to check you out.”
Zack transferred his body from his chair to the bed. “Is that strictly necessary?”
“I guess we’ll know tomorrow,” I said. “Can I get you anything?”
He glanced at his nightstand. I’d assembled the usual arsenal people gather to fight the flu: Aspirin, a decongestant and antihistamine, a cough suppressant, a Thermos of water, a box of tissues – and something else – a tube of Polysporin. “Looks like you’ve anticipated my every need,” he said.
“I aim to please,” I said. I picked up the Polysporin. “You have a couple of pressure sores on your back. Let me rub a little of this on them. We don’t want to take any chances.” When I was finished, I helped Zack get comfortable. “Wake me up in the night if you need anything.”
“You coming to bed now?”
“I’d better let the dogs out one more time, but once that’s done, I’m on my way. It’s been a long day.”
When I finally slid between the sheets, I moved close to kiss Zack good night. He turned his face away so that all I managed was a cheek peck. “You don’t want to get this,” he said.
“You’re right, I don’t,” I said, “but as soon as you start feeling better, I want one of those kisses that Kevin Costner talked about in
I’d just come back from my morning run with the dogs when Henry Chan arrived. He turned down my offer of coffee and went straight in to see Zack. He stayed with Zack long enough to make me fretful, and when he came out he seemed preoccupied. He went to the kitchen sink, washed his hands, then took a prescription pad from his briefcase, leaned against the counter, and began writing. “This one should help with the congestion,” he said. He tore off the first prescription and handed it to me. “You must have noticed the pressure sores,” he added.
“Last night I put Polysporin on them,” I said.
Henry nodded. “We may need something a little more heavy-duty.” He leaned over his pad and began writing again. “Every four hours for this one,” he said. Then he wrote out a third prescription. “Zack’s throat is inflamed and there’s swelling in the lymph nodes, but this should do the trick. I’ll check in on my way to the hospital tomorrow morning.” He picked up the winter jacket he’d flung on the kitchen chair when he came in and began readying himself to leave. “Keep an eye on him. If you don’t think this is moving in the right direction, call Gina. Apart from that, just keep on doing what you’re doing.” He zipped his jacket, pulled on his toque and gloves, and headed for the door.
“Henry… ” My throat tightened. I couldn’t say anything more. For the first time that morning he really looked at me, and he saw how frightened I was.
He stopped. “Gina always gives me hell for not paying enough attention to the spouses. I apologize, Joanne, I have a long day ahead, and my mind was on what I was going to do next. I know you love Zack, and barring something unforeseen, he’ll get through this with flying colours. It’s just that there are no small illnesses for paraplegics, and from what Zack said, he let this one get away from him. The trip to Ontario, and then going out again last night.”
“I should have stopped him.”
Henry’s smile was gentle. “You think you could have?”
“No.”
“If it’s any consolation, being married to you has added years to Zack’s life.”
“How many years?” I said.
Henry met my gaze. “Nobody can answer that, but Zack is no longer living like an eighteen-year-old kid with a death wish. He’s cut down on the booze and gambling, he’s monogamous, and he tells me he no longer drives like a maniac.”
“I wish he’d cut back on his workload,” I said.
