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Refusing to open his eyes, he rolled over. But the new position made little difference. The snatches of conversation, the signs he should’ve noticed but didn’t, crowded close, bringing with them the anger and the guilt that were his constant companions.
Throwing an arm over his eyes, Preston shifted onto his back as a fresh spring day from three years ago played in his mind.
“Nice shot, buddy,” Vince had said, laughing as he slapped Preston on the back. They were at the Presidio, only ten minutes from San Francisco, golfing among century-old eucalyptus and Monterey pine trees. “If I hang out with you long enough, maybe some of your luck will rub off on me.”
Preston smiled. For someone who wasn’t very good at the game, Vince sure liked to get out on the golf course. “Next time we’ll have to bring the girls,” he said.
Vince squatted to line up his next drive. “I don’t know. They prefer to shop or get their nails done, don’t they?”
Christy enjoyed golf. Preston would’ve invited her, but she’d volunteered to help in Dallas’s class that day. “Christy’s interested in a lot of things,” he said.
After taking a couple of practice swings, Vince sidled up to the ball and adjusted his grip on the iron. “What do you say we go to Carmel next month?”
Vince and Joanie didn’t have kids, so Preston knew they’d expect him and Christy to leave Dallas behind. While Christy’s parents were generally good about babysitting, he and Christy didn’t like leaving their son more than once or twice a year. “Isn’t it hard for you to get away as often as you do?” Preston asked.
Vince shrugged. “I’m in a group. We can always go when one of the other doctors is on call, or I can trade with someone.” Thwack. He hit the ball and they both watched it fly through the air.
“Not bad,” Preston said as it dropped onto the green about ten feet short of his own.
Vince leaned on his driver. “See? Your luck’s rubbing off on me already.”
A cool Pacific breeze ruffled Preston’s hair as he hefted his clubs over one shoulder and headed toward the next hole. They could have rented a golf cart, of course, but Preston preferred to walk.
“Are you and Christy still planning to barbecue with us this Saturday?” Vince asked.
Preston hadn’t heard anything about it. “Are we supposed to?”
“I think Joanie talked to Christy.”
“She hasn’t mentioned it to me yet. Can we bring Dallas?”
“Of course.”
“Sounds good.”
Vince grinned. “We’re so glad we moved here. It’s like having a new lease on life.”
Preston veered around a sand trap, and Vince trailed behind. “Where’d you live before?” he asked, looking back over his shoulder.
“Pennsylvania,” Vince said, catching up.
“I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned the town.”
“Maybe not. Lockwood’s barely more than a dot on the map. Most people’ve never heard of it.”
“What was so bad about Lockwood?” Preston asked.
“It was okay at first—great. But then…” A shadow passed over Vince’s face.
“Then…what?”
“One of my patients died. It happens, you know. Being a doctor, it’s something I have to deal with. But afterward…” He shook his head. “I don’t know. The place just…haunted me.”
Preston’s steps slowed. Generally Vince went on and on about how much he loved his profession. This was the first time Preston had heard him speak of the painful side of being a doctor. “How old was the patient?”
His friend blew out a long sigh. “That’s the worst part. He was only seven.”
Preston stopped walking altogether. “That would be hard. How’d he die?”
Vince’s eyes darted to his face. “It was nothing I did.”
The sudden defensiveness took Preston by surprise. “Of course not. I didn’t say it was.”
The placating grin that deepened Vince’s dimples should’ve given him away, but somehow Preston had missed it. He’d been too damn gullible, too certain his friend was everything he appeared to be.
“Sorry. You know how it is,” Vince had said. “A doctor feels responsible for saving the world and all that. Sometimes it’s simply not possible.”
Now the truth was so apparent Preston cringed to remember how easily he’d accepted Vince’s rationale. “That’s a fact of life, buddy,” he’d said and started off again. “You can’t let it keep eating at you.”
“Joanie says the same thing.”
“You should listen to her.”
Poor Wendell… Tossing on the bed, Preston ground his teeth. How could Vince have painted himself as the martyr in what had happened to Billy Duran?
It was almost unbelievable. Almost.
He went back to that day….
At the next hole, Preston selected a putter. “You’ve shown me some of the letters you’ve received from grateful patients. I know you’re a good doctor.”
Vince nodded. “Yeah. I saved a little girl in the same town.”
“Really?”
“She would’ve died had she been seeing anyone else.”
“That’s impressive.”
Vince’s chest swelled with obvious pride. “They did a big write-up about it in the paper.”
“See? There you go.” Preston placed his ball on the tee, settled himself beside it and tapped it to within a few inches of the hole.
“Not bad,” Vince said.
Preston stood back, out of the way. “So how’d the little boy die?”
No answer.
“Vince?”
“Bacterial infection,” he muttered.
Preston waited in silence for him to finish his put. Vince overshot the hole by nearly ten feet, then Preston birdied.
“Can’t bacterial infections be treated with antibiotics?” Preston asked as he retrieved his ball from the cup.
He’d only been making conversation, but all hints of the good-natured friend Preston had known for the past months immediately disappeared.
“Don’t you think I tried that?” Vince said. “What, are you a doctor now, Preston? It was spinal meningitis. For your information, that’s a very serious disease.”
And then Preston actually tried to placate him. “Calm down, Vince,” he said. “I was only expecting you to tell me a little more about what happened. I’m sure you did everything you could.”
