Jericho Page 3

The waiting room was small, but homey and very clean. American primitive antiques lined the walls, and several overstuffed Morris chairs were arranged around a glass-topped coffee table. An older woman, wearing a white shift and a nubby gray cardigan, sat behind a reception desk, organizing a stack of multicolored file folders. She looked up at Syd with unveiled curiosity, noticed her pronounced limp, then quickly stood up and came from behind the desk.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Syd replied. “I don’t think it’s too serious, but I fell, and I think I may have twisted my ankle pretty badly.”

  “Well, you sit right down over here, honey,” the woman gushed. She directed Syd into one of the upholstered chairs and dragged an ottoman over. “Prop your leg up on this and let’s get that shoe off. Dr. Stevenson will be back in just a few minutes.”

  “Thank you.” Syd gratefully accepted the small, round woman’s attentions.

  “Now, that’s better,” the woman pronounced as she dropped Syd’s paint-spattered Nike to the floor. “I’m Mrs. Peggy Hawkes,” she proudly announced, “and I’ve worked here ever since old Doc Stevenson opened this clinic twenty-five years ago.”

  “Oh,” Syd looked squarely into a pair of penetrating, steely blue eyes. An implied question hung in the air. “Nice to meet you. My name is Syd Murphy.” Syd paused. “I’m the new librarian in Jericho.”

  Mrs. Hawkes nodded vigorously and rocked back on the heels of her crepe-soled shoes. “Of course,” she said. “I read about you in the paper. How you liking it up here in the hills? From up north somewhere, aren’t you? I expect you see a lot of Curtis Freemantle out that way. He runs the mini-mart. You just missed his wife, Edna. She was in here this morning to have a neck boil lanced—same one, second time this month. Lord. Would you like some Pepsi, honey? Your color’s a little off.”

  Syd stared in amazement as Mrs. Hawkes droned on, oblivious to her expanding stream of unanswered questions.

  Tires crunched on the gravel outside, and a car door opened and closed. Mrs. Hawkes cut her monologue short as something began to rub insistently against the outside of the clinic door.

  “I swanny,” she said in a huff, as she walked to the door and opened it.

  A large, yellow dog bounded into the waiting room. He skidded to a halt on the tile floor when he noticed Syd, then retreated shyly to a corner. He held a bright green tennis ball in his mouth.

  Incredulous, Syd extended her hand. “Pete?” Tentatively, the dog approached her and sniffed her outstretched hand.

  A striking, dark-haired woman entered the office. The tall woman was wearing a red sweater and a pair of gray corduroys. She carried a large postal bin. She noticed Syd, propped up in a chair with one sock-clad foot extended, and stopped dead in her tracks. Her blue eyes widened, then she laughed.

  “S-Y-D, right?”

  Syd was equally stunned. “Right. I can’t believe this.” She rubbed Pete behind the ears. “Do you work here?”

  “It’s worse than that,” Maddie drawled. “I own the joint.”

  Syd blinked. “You mean you’re Dr. Stevenson?”

  “Dr. Stevenson the younger,” cut in a curious-sounding Peggy Hawkes. “This was her daddy’s clinic.”

  “I came back here to practice after my father died,” Maddie explained.

  Syd continued to stare at Maddie in amazement. “Well, it looks like you’re destined to rescue me once again.”

  Maddie handed the bin of mail to Mrs. Hawkes and crossed her arms. “What happened?”

  “I took a nose dive off a step stool at the library and twisted my ankle.”

  “It looks pretty swollen. How long ago did this happen?” Maddie knelt down next to the ottoman and carefully raised Syd’s pant leg as she looked at her ankle.

  “About half an hour ago.”

  “Well, let’s get you into an examination room and take a closer look.” Maddie stood up and turned to Peggy Hawkes. “Let’s get some x-rays of that ankle—AP, Mortisse, and Lateral.”

  “Can you do that here?” Syd asked, struggling up out of the armchair. Maddie stepped closer and took her arm to steady her as she stood up.

  “Sure can,” Mrs. Hawkes exclaimed. “Got a better x-ray machine than the county clinic over in Jefferson.”

  Maddie helped Syd down the hall behind the reception desk and into a small, dimly-lighted room that was dominated by a massive x-ray table.

  “Have a seat up here.” Maddie tapped the top of the table and helped Syd get settled. “Peggy will be right in to take the x-rays, then we’ll fix you up.” She smiled, left the room, and closed the door behind her.

  For all her flighty presentation, Peggy Hawkes entered and got Syd ready for the x-rays.

  “So you two girls met before? Isn’t that just the way of things?” Peggy asked. “Where was it—at the library? I remember Maddie talking about needing to order a new PDR for the office. Did you help her with that? Turn this way a little, honey. That’s good. I heard from Edna that you’re living in that little apartment over the library. Are you going to look for a bigger place? Okay, don’t move, now. We’ll take this one just like the last time.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Syd was seated in Maddie’s examination room, still reeling from Peggy’s inquisition. Idly, she glanced around the office. Several framed diplomas hung on the wall behind the padded examination table. One was an undergraduate degree from Stanford. Syd squinted. Summa cum laude. Not too shabby. Another was from the University of Pennsylvania School of Medicine. The third indicated that Madeleine H. Stevenson had served as Chief Resident in Emergency Medicine at Penn Presbyterian Hospital in Philadelphia. Syd shook her head slowly. God . . . there’s nothing like being an underachiever.

  There was a gentle tap at the door, and Maddie entered, now wearing a long white jacket and small, wire-framed glasses. A stethoscope dangled from her pocket. She held a clipboard and a blood-pressure cuff. She smiled at Syd.

  “Let’s get the routine stuff out of the way.” Maddie opened a small drawer, took a foil-wrapped thermometer out, unsheathed it, and placed it under Syd’s tongue. “Our digital unit is on the fritz. We’re temporarily operating in the dark ages.” She took hold of Syd’s wrist and counted her pulse.

  “A little rapid,” Maddie observed. “Probably all the excitement. Let’s get your blood pressure.”

  Syd nodded her assent, and together they rolled up her shirtsleeve. Maddie fitted the cuff into place and fished out her stethoscope. She took readings on both arms.

  “No problems there. What’s this little gizmo say?” She pulled the thermometer out of Syd’s mouth and held it up to the light. “Slightly elevated—also not surprising.” She made a few notations on Syd’s chart.

  “Will I live?” Syd asked playfully.

  “I think so,” Maddie ventured. “But judging by the looks of that ankle, you won’t be auditioning for Dancing With the Stars any time soon.”

  “Damn . . . I already had my outfit all picked out.”

  Maddie was smiling as Mrs. Hawkes entered the room with the x-rays.

  “Here you are, Doctor.” She turned to Syd. “Now you stop by my desk on the way out, honey, and we’ll take care of all your paperwork.”

  Maddie took the film from her. “Thanks, Peggy.”

  Peggy bustled out and winked at Syd as she closed the door.

  “Wow.” Syd exhaled. “She is absolutely exhausting.”

  Maddie chuckled as she clipped the x-ray films onto a wall-mounted light box. “I know what you mean. My father always said she had more lines than BellSouth. But she’s got a big heart, and she’s a damn fine nurse.”

  She studied the x-rays for a minute, and then turned to Syd.

  “Those look just fine, but do you mind if I manipulate this thing a little? It may hurt a bit, but I’ll try to be quick.”

  “Twist away, Doctor. At least this time you don’t have to contend with rusty lug nuts.”

  They laughed. Maddie helped Syd to stand s
o she could sit on the end of the examination table. She took her shoe and sock with her. Maddie lifted Syd’s leg in her warm hands and gently rotated her foot—first to the left and then to the right. Syd winced.

  “Sorry,” Maddie said quickly. “One more, okay?”

  She flexed the foot up and down several times, testing the muscle and mobility of the joint.

  “How’s that feel? Hurt as much as the other way?”

  “Not as bad,” Syd said through clenched teeth, “but I won’t lie and say it’s pleasant.”

  Maddie gently put her leg down and sat back on her rolling stool.

  “Well, Madam, there’s good news and bad news.”

  “Okay,” Syd prompted.

  “The good news is that nothing is broken—or fractured, as near as I can tell. The bad news is that you’ve got a class-A sprain. And I want you to stay completely off of it for at least three days. No arguments.”

  “That’s impossible,” Syd began.

  “Look, Syd,” Maddie said. “You can stay off it and give it a good chance to heal cleanly, or you can risk re-injuring it and ending up with a more serious and potentially chronic disability. Even though I don’t see anything on the films, we can’t rule out the possibility of a hairline fracture.”

  Syd cocked her head. “Don’t hold back, Doctor. Tell me what you really think.”

  The corners of Maddie’s blue eyes crinkled as she smiled. “Sorry. Sometimes my bedside manner is more suited to southwest Philly than southwest Virginia.”

  “It’s okay. I know you’re right. I’ve just got so much work to finish before the library opening.”

  “When is it?”

  “November twelfth,” Syd answered. “Three weeks from today.”

  “Do you have any help?”

  “Yeah.” Syd winced as she pulled on her sock. “Two volunteers. But they only work in the afternoons two days a week.”

  Maddie sighed. “Well, take my advice. It’ll be difficult in the short term, but will do you much more good in the long run.”

  “Okay, Doc. You’re the boss.”

  “In the meantime,” Maddie continued, “just follow the tried-and-true RICE prescription—Rest, Ice, Compress, Elevate. Take it easy. Alternate hot and cold compresses on the ankle for the rest of today, and take aspirin to reduce the inflammation and help ease the pain. You can wrap it with an ACE bandage to make sleeping more comfortable.” She reached into a drawer, drew out a cellophane-wrapped bandage, and handed it to Syd. “And keep this leg elevated as much as possible for the next forty-eight hours.” She finished jotting notes on the sheet attached to her clipboard. “Give me a call later in the week, and let me know how you’re doing.”

  Syd slowly stood up, still holding her left shoe in her hand.

  “And, Syd?” Maddie began.

  “Yes?”

  “If I don’t hear from you, I may just send Peggy by the library to investigate.”

  “Heaven forefend,” Syd declared. “Don’t worry. I’ll call. I’ll write. I’ll call and write.”

  “I get the picture.” Maddie laughed. She extended her hand. Syd shook it warmly. “Nice to see you again. I’ll look forward to hearing from you later in the week.”

  Chapter 3

  Maddie didn’t have to wait too long to find out how Syd was faring. Four days later, she ran into her—literally—with her grocery cart.

  It was eight o’clock on Friday night, and Maddie had ducked into the local Food Bonanza on her way home from the clinic for eggs and milk. She was famished. It had been a long day, replete with two emergencies, and she hadn’t had anything to eat since seven that morning. Deciding that a large chef’s salad sounded appealing, she made a quick pass through the deli section for some fresh cold cuts and cheese. She whirled her cart around and slammed right into the cart of another lone shopper, who was several feet away examining boxes of cookies on a lower shelf. Before she could stop it, the second cart lurched into motion and rolled toward a towering display of Vanilla Wafers.

  “Holy hell,” Maddie cursed and lunged forward to try and grab the handle of the runaway cart. She was too late. It made short work of the display, and a tsunami of cookie boxes fell into its basket, and spread out across the aisle. “Oh, shit.” Maddie dropped her arms to her sides as she viewed the carnage.

  Syd stood facing her, ankle deep in Vanilla Wafers. “Personally, I was leaning toward the Oreos, but it seems like you feel pretty strongly about these.” She picked one of the boxes up out of her cart. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

  Inwardly cursing herself for being so clumsy, Maddie dramatically shrugged. “So much for professional decorum.” She looked up to meet Syd’s amused green eyes.

  “Hello, Dr. Stevenson.”

  “Hi there. And please, call me Maddie.” She paused. “It’s a privilege I extend to everyone I rear-end.” Syd snorted, and Maddie groaned when she realized what she had just said. “Oh, god. I’m sorry. This just keeps getting worse. Believe me. I’m not normally this accomplished a klutz.”

  “Really?” Syd crossed her arms. “So you’re more of a garden-variety klutz?”

  “Touché.” Maddie laughed. “How are you? How’s the ankle?” She stepped forward and started to pick up the boxes of cookies.

  “I’m fine—nearly able to walk in a straight line.” Syd pulled boxes of cookies out of her cart.

  “You do not have to help me clean this up.”

  “Don’t be silly. It’s partly my fault. It appears I was blocking the right-of-way—again.” She paused, holding boxes in both hands. “Should we try to restack these?”

  “Beats me. Maybe we should just ditch ’em and flee the scene.”

  Syd nodded. “Normally, I’d be way ahead of you with that, but I’m starving, and I really need to find something to eat.”

  “Long day?”

  “Oh, yeah. The branch opening is on top of me, and I still have tons left to do.”

  “I guess you figured out that all the restaurants around here close at sunset?”

  Syd sighed. “Uh huh. I thought about ordering a pizza—again. But I just couldn’t face it tonight.”

  They continued to stack boxes in silence. As they worked, Maddie couldn’t keep down her growing curiosity about Syd. On the two previous occasions they had met, she had found herself enjoying Syd’s company and wanting to get to know her better. Tonight was no exception. It was rare for her to find someone she felt so immediately at ease with—especially in Jericho. She glanced at her watch. It wasn’t impossibly late yet, and they both had to eat. She wondered if Syd had any plans for the rest of the evening. She wondered if Syd would find it strange for her to ask.

  They were nearly finished, and Syd looked at Maddie. “Why are you here this late on a Friday night?”

  Maddie shrugged. “Similar story. I had a couple of emergencies today and didn’t get a chance to eat anything. I thought I’d pick up some salad stuff on my way home.” She paused after placing the last box on top of their makeshift pile. She turned to Syd. “Wanna join me? I can offer you some great wine and a table with a view.”

  Syd seemed to hesitate as she considered the offer. “Are you sure? It’s late, and I know you must be tired.”

  Maddie smiled at her. “I am tired, but to tell the truth, I’m more tired of eating alone. If you’re up for it, I would really enjoy the company.”

  “Well, then sure. I’d love to.” Syd’s smile appeared genuine.

  “Great. Let’s go cruise the deli aisle and see what looks tempting. You can follow me to my house—it’s not far from here.”

  Before they turned around and headed for the back of the store, Maddie tossed a box of Vanilla Wafers into her cart.

  Syd gave her a strange look.

  She shrugged. “Might as well.”

  THEY APPROACHED THE checkout lane, and Syd was surprised to see Roma Jean running the cash register. She had never mentioned that she had a part-time job here—or anywhere
.

  Roma Jean looked up from the copy of US Weekly she was reading. She broke into a wide smile.

  “Hi, Miss Murphy.” She tucked the magazine back into the display rack and hopped off her stool. “I bet you’re surprised to see me here.” She smiled proudly.

  “Hello, Roma Jean.” Syd smiled back as she started removing items from her cart. “I sure am. How often do you work here?”

  “Mostly just weekends, but sometimes they call me in if somebody gets sick.” Roma Jean’s fuchsia fingernails were a blur as she quickly scanned Syd’s items and pushed them toward the bagging area. “I have to work until closing tonight. I don’t usually mind that, but it’s reeaaalllly slow right now. I keep hoping that some of my friends will come in, but I guess the game isn’t over yet. I was supposed to go, but they called me in to work because Mrs. Pollard’s car broke down again—that’s like the third time this week. I’m bored out of my mind ’cause there’s nothing to do.”

  “Well, if you’re desperate, there’s a display on aisle nine that could use some serious help,” Maddie said in low voice.

  Roma Jean looked up with a startled expression. She blushed and spilled the bag of oranges she had just picked up. They bounced across the conveyor belt, and Syd caught one before it hit the floor.

  Maddie eyed Roma Jean with an amused expression. “Hello, Roma Jean. I saw your mom today. How’s she feeling?”

  Roma Jean appeared completely undone. “Oh. Um. Hi, Dr. Stevenson. She’s fine—I think.” She dropped her eyes, then shyly stole another glance at Maddie.

  It was clear to Syd that Roma Jean was in awe of the doctor. She watched their interaction with interest.

  “Good. Please tell her not to hesitate to call me at home over the weekend if she has any more problems.” Maddie began to unload their assortment of deli items from her cart.

  “Okay, um, I will.” Roma Jean stared down at the moving conveyor belt. She continued to blush furiously. “Thank you, Dr. Stevenson.” She belatedly started to scan the rest of Syd’s groceries, but was noticeably slower, and had to scan several items repeatedly before she could get their prices to register.