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“Mrs. Sheridan,” he said with his most professional smile, “I’m Dr. Miller. What can I do for you today?”
*~*~*
Lauren pulled her car up the long and familiar pebble lined driveway to her parents’ home, parked her car behind the garage and went running into the house. She could hear voices—both Momma’s and Daddy’s coming from the kitchen. Momma sounded shrill. Daddy was calmer, but just as insistent. They were sitting at the kitchen table, while Felicia, their long time house keeper looked on, wringing her hands and muttering under her breath.
“What’s going on? I came over as fast as I could,” Lauren said, her heart still hammering in her throat. “Momma said it was an emergency.”
“You called Lauren?” Daddy turned to Momma and scowled. “For God’s sake, Maureen, leave the poor girl alone. I’m perfectly fine.” His hand was wrapped in a blood soaked towel, but otherwise, he seemed all right. She forced herself to keep it together. He was breathing. He didn’t seem confused. Things could be a lot worse.
“Daddy, what happened to your hand?”
“Cut it trying to close the window,” he said, not meeting her gaze.
“But…you’re okay, right?”
“Well of course I’m okay, Sweet Tea. Don’t I look fine?” He looked pale, but Lauren didn’t want to tell him that.
Momma shook her head, her lips pursed. Now that she knew no one was missing a limb, Lauren took in the scene in front of her. The kitchen was immaculate, as usual, but there was a trail of blood leading from the window overlooking the back yard pool area all the way to the kitchen sink. One of the window panes was busted open and beneath the sill lay large shards of broken glass.
“Can I see your hand?” she gently asked her father.
He made a grumpy sound and thrust his hand out to her. Lauren slowly unwrapped the towel to reveal a gash at the bottom of his right palm. Without the towel to staunch the flow, blood began oozing out again.
“Daddy, we need to get this stitched up.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell him!” Momma said, her blue eyes shiny with tears. “But he’s so damn stubborn he won’t listen to a word I say.”
Lauren turned and met the housekeeper’s gaze. “Felicia, will you please take care of this mess? I’m going to drive Daddy to see the doctor.”
“Gladly,” Felicia said, looking relieved. She went to the mudroom that connected the garage to the kitchen. Lauren followed her. She found the housekeeper pulling a mop out of the closet.
“What happened?” Lauren asked quietly.
Lauren didn’t remember a time when Felicia Armstrong hadn’t worked for her parents. She was a no-nonsense kind of person who always said what was on her mind. Which was often. And loud. “Your Momma was sitting in the kitchen making phone calls for one of her fundraisers. I was putting in a load of laundry and all of sudden your Daddy comes out of nowhere, saying he’s tired of being held prisoner and he wants out right this instant! I tried to reason with him, Lauren, but he just got more agitated. And then before we knew it, he busted the window with his hand.”
Lauren briefly shut her eyes. It was definitely not a scene she wanted to envision. Daddy had his moments of mild confusion, but never anything like this. “Thanks, Felicia.” She reached out and gave her a tight hug.
“I hate it,” Felicia said with a fervor she rarely used. “I just hate seeing him like this, cooped up at home with your Momma and me taking turns watching him like he’s a baby. He’s right, you know, he is a prisoner! It’s not fair.” She wiped her eyes, then took the mop and went to clean the mess.
Lauren took a moment to collect herself then made her way back to the kitchen. “Okay, Daddy,” she said, using an upbeat voice, “Let’s go for a ride.”
“Hold on,” Momma said, “I need to go put on my lipstick. A lady never leaves the house without lipstick. No matter what’s going on.” She disappeared into the master bedroom and returned with a cashmere sweater and her face freshly painted. “There. I’m ready.”
Daddy just looked at Lauren and shook his head the same way he always did whenever they had to wait on Momma before going out. Looking at him now, he seemed completely like his old normal self. If Lauren hadn’t seen him in one of his “spells,” as Momma put it, she’d think they’d made the whole thing up.
“Hey, Mr. Handy, how are you today?” Janie, Doc Morrison’s receptionist cheerfully asked, then she noticed the towel wrapped around his hand and frowned. “Oh no, did you have an accident?”
“Cut my hand trying to open a window,” said Daddy with such a straight face that Lauren was actually beginning to believe it herself. Could Momma and Felicia have misread the situation? Lauren thought about it a moment. Momma, yes. But Felicia? No. Lauren tried to keep her face neutral, but inside it was all she could do to keep from crying.
“Yikes!” Janie handed Daddy a clipboard with some paperwork to fill out. Momma intercepted the clipboard, and her parents took a seat in the crowded waiting room. Janie motioned to Lauren for a private word. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of your Daddy, but Doc Morrison is out sick today. He can see Dr. Miller, if that’s okay.”
“Dr. Miller? Oh, no, I’m afraid that’s not possible. My father only sees Dr. Morrison.”
“Well, if it can wait till tomorrow, then I’m sure we can work him in first thing in the morning,” Janie said. “Or he could see Ellen? But she’s backed up for at least the next hour. Dr. Miller’s available now.” Then she lowered her voice. “He’s kind of fast, if you know what I mean. Gets the patients in and out in record time.”
Obviously, it couldn’t wait till morning. Lauren had seen Ellen, the nurse practitioner a few times herself, and she’d given Henry his last physical, but she’d never treated Daddy.
“Dr. Miller is perfectly capable of doing a stitch up,” Janie added helpfully.
