Page 2 of Bernadette
“Can you share?”
“I’m done, my career is washed up, unless I want to ride a desk for the rest of it.”
“Ah, shit, that’s not you.”
“I know, as we speak the doctor is getting my files ready, so I can take them with me. At best, I’ll be using a cane the rest of my life.”
“Shit.” Hank was silent for almost an entire minute before he spoke again. “One question, where’s the fucker that tried to take you and your team out?”
“Dead.” Bernie didn’t bother to mince her words. She knew Hank knew what she did for a living, and it was good to be able to have someone understand what she said without her having to watch how she said it.
“Good, so what are you going to do now? I know I call you every few months and bust your balls about coming to work for the Brotherhood, but I’m serious. You will always have a job here if and when you need it. My doors are always open.”
“Thanks Patterson, but I need to go home and drown my sorrows in a shot of that hundred-year-old whiskey you gave me a few years back and make some decisions. Don’t worry, I’ll only have one or two fingers. I’m not one to get snot-hanging drunk.”
“I know, and I understand. Let me know what you decide. As I said, you will always be welcome here at the Brotherhood.”
“Thanks, Hank,” Bernie said, and looked up when the door began to open. “Gotta go, the doctor is returning.” They hung up and Bernie watched as the door continued to open, and instead of the doctor, it was the nurse.
“Sorry, the doctor is in with the next patient. Here’s the information you requested.” She handed Bernie the flash-drive she’d handed the doctor fifteen minutes before, and scowled as the nurse passed her several papers.
“What are these?”
“These are the notes from today’s visit. This is a prescription for pain pills.”
“I don’t need those.”
“I know you don’t, but take some advice from me. Get them filled, because one day you’re going to wish you had something strong to take the edge off any pain you may experience. It is better to get it filled and have the bottle lying around, than not getting it filled and not being able to find a doctor to give you a prescription once this one expires in thirty days. By all means, continue with the over-the-counter stuff. Whatever works for you, but please, at least get it filled as a backup plan.”
Bernie continued to scowl at her, but took the paper anyway. “And the rest?”
“Another prescription for a cane, and instructions on when and how often you can remove the brace.” The nurse held up her hand and smirked. “Besides in the shower, and sitting at a desk. There is also a list of what daily exercises you can do without going into physical therapy, and we’re hoping it won’t bring too much pain to your knee. If it does, discontinue them and call our office immediately.”
“Thanks,” Bernie said as she took all the papers, and held her tongue when the nurse helped her down from the exam table. To her, it was humiliating to have someone help her walk, but if she was going to get on with her life, she needed to suck it up, and be a big girl. With her papers in her bag, and that slung over her shoulder, she hobbled out the door, and headed to the front of the office. She stopped to make her next appointment for four months from that date. At the last minute she asked if something came up if she could cancel. After being told to give them at least twenty-four hours or more, she was free to go.
Once outside of the doctor’s office, she didn’t have long to wait for her driver to come to the front of the building to pick her up. One of the perks of being a high-ranking officer in the Marine Corps was the fact that she was entitled to a car and driver. Up until her injury, she never utilized it. Since having to use crutches, it had come in handy. With the driver’s help, she climbed into the back of the car, laid her head on the seat, and sighed heavily. She let her mind wander as the driver moved through Friday evening rush hour traffic.
“Sir,” the driver said at one point, causing Bernie to jerk awake.
“Yes?”
“Your phone is going off, Sir.”
“Oh, sorry.” Bernie sighed and barely glanced at the phone as she answered it, thinking it was Hank Patterson calling her back to check on her.
“Not now Patterson, give me a little time to process what I just learned.”
“Sorry, I must have the wrong number,” a female voice said on the other end of the line.
“Who are you calling?” Bernie sat up straighter and saw she had at least ten maybe fifteen minutes before she made it to her home. Luckily, when she’d left for the doctor’s appointment, she had told her staff she would see them Monday morning.
“Commander Cromwell.”
“That’s me, how can I help you?”
“This is Morgan Stuart.”
“Ah, I remember. I don’t have the time to talk right now, can I call you back?”
