Page 9 of Chosen Path
“Not so fast. There’s more. The files aren’t in alphabetical order.”
“They’re not?”
“Nope. They’re in chronological order of when he first treated the patient. So, for instance, Corrine Wolf, who I saw this morning, is Patient Number 386. Doctor Larson first treated her in 1963, for her newborn exam.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
“How do you know where to look for their records when they come in?”
“I ask when they call for an appointment if they happen to know their patient number. So far, everyone has been able to rattle it right off, thank goodness. I dread the day when someone doesn’t know it. And before you ask, yes, I do have plans to get the files digitized. But I can’t incur the expense right now.” She dropped her eyes to the steering wheel and her cheeks reddened.
“Maybe there’s someone in town who could help you on a volunteer basis.”
“Maybe,” she said in a flat voice.
“But you don’t want to ask?”
“My, uh, innovations haven’t been met with a lot of enthusiasm. The general feeling seems to be Doctor Larson’s way worked for three-quarters of a century, so why change things.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah.” She gripped the steering wheel and gritted out the next sentence. “Speaking of my financial situation, I know you told Doctor Kayser you’d help me without compensation, but I can’t allow you to do that. I mean, I didn’t even pay for your flight.”
“Sure you can.”
“It’s not right,” she insisted.
“Molly, it’s a gift freely given. Accepting it with gratitude is the gift you can give me in return.”
She opened her mouth as if she might argue, but he went on, “By the way, your Uncle Al paid my airfare. And I thanked him. See how that works?”
She twisted her mouth in a bow and made a clicking sound with her tongue. Then she nodded. “Well, thank you for donating your time and expertise to help me.”
“You’re quite welcome.” He smiled warmly.
He hoped hecouldhelp the young doctor. She was barely keeping her head above water. This spate of mysterious deaths might just drag her under.
CHAPTERFIVE
Scandia Bluff, Vermont
Population, 588 plus one visitor
Wednesday evening
Village Council Meeting
Corrine coughed wetly into a tissue. Again.
The sound grated on Kimberly Dickerson’s nerves, and, before she could stop herself, she snapped, “Good grief, Corrine. Get that taken care of already.”
To Kimberly’s left, Greg Rockman raised one bushy eyebrow and gave Kimberly a pointed look before asking, “You okay, Corrine?”
Corrine nodded, red-faced, as she continued to hack. Then she grabbed her glass of water and took a long drink before answering. “It’s nothing. Just a spring cold.”
“I don’t know. It sounds pretty bad to me. Maybe you should see Doctor Hart.” Kimberly infused her voice with warmth and concern to make up for her outburst.
