The Lucky Ones(58)

“The kidneys clean poison out of your body. When the kidneys can’t do their job anymore, the poisons stay in the system.”

He patted the bed next to him and Allison sat at his side.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

“It’s not comfortable, but it’s not quite pain, either. What hurts is the unfairness. To give your life in service to mankind and then...this.”

“No, it’s not fair at all,” she said, reaching out to take his hand. He held hers in his and squeezed it. She took heart in the strength she felt in his hands. There was life in him yet.

“You know what else isn’t fair?” Allison said. “You still have to take your meds.”

“Ah, dammit.”

“I know a man trying to change the subject when I see it.”

“How about you recite me another poem?” he asked. “A good long one. An epic, maybe? The Iliad?”

“‘Hateful to me as the gates of Hades is that man who hides one thing in his heart and speaks another.’”

“Prometheus Bound,” he said.

“‘Such is the reward you reap for loving mortals.’”

“My mother would have adored you. How about The Odyssey?”

“How about you recite me a poem?” She stood up, crossed her arms over her chest and waited.

He chuckled a little, wagged his finger at her.

“Oh, that’s your trick not mine. But I know one. If I can recite one poem, will I still have to take my meds?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“How about this?” he said. “I recite my poem and you keep that nagging monk out of my room so I can pretend for one night I’m a grown man.”

“All right,” she said. “Deal. Recite.”

He smiled a little and tapped his temple as if trying to jar the poem free. He recited the poem to her.

“So much depends

upon

a red wheel

barrow

glazed with rain

water

beside the white

chickens.”

Allison applauded. “William Carlos Williams. A classic. A very short classic.”

“You know what it means?”

“An ode to a wheelbarrow?”

A deal was a deal. She watched as Dr. Capello took his pills one by one.

“Dr. Williams was a pediatrician,” he said. “He wrote that while sitting at the bedside of a dying child.” Dr. Capello blinked and in an instant tears were in his eyes. And hers.

“I never knew,” she said. “Wonder why he thought of that.”

“I’d say he was looking out the window and trying to think about anything other than the little child he couldn’t save. All doctors keep a graveyard inside their hearts for those patients. That’s why I like my view so much.” He reached out and tapped the glass of his window, which looked out onto the ocean. “It comforts me.”

“Looking at the Graveyard of the Pacific comforts you?” she asked.

“Of course it does,” he said, gazing out his window at the dark shifting waters in the near distance. “Compared to that graveyard out there, mine’s tiny. A doctor with children in his graveyard takes any comfort he can get.”





Chapter 18

Allison left Dr. Capello in his bed and walked out into the hallway. Her talk with him tonight had been strange and revealing. She never would have guessed someone as sweet and funny and well-adjusted as Deacon seemingly came from such a violent background. Well, that explained the pepper spray. What explained Oliver? She wasn’t sure about Roland’s theory that Dr. Capello’s memory was failing. She’d challenged him to recite a poem from memory, and he’d done it without breaking a sweat. And yet reciting one little poem hardly proved anything, right? Seemed far more likely Roland remembered the timeline of events differently than Dr. Capello did. Did it matter? Allison felt safe staying at The Dragon. Dr. Capello devoted his life to helping children, not hurting them. And Deacon had given her pepper spray to protect herself. Thora had saved Allison that very day from a severe injury. And Roland had asked her to come back, which is the last thing someone with something to hide would do.

Nevertheless, she wondered...

She was about to go downstairs when she noticed that the attic door was ajar and someone had taped a note to the frame that read, Family meeting at 10:00 p.m. Attic! This means you, Al!

Family meeting? Why were they having a family meeting in the attic?

Allison carefully peeled the note off the door, closed the attic door behind her and headed up the stairs. When she reached the attic, she found everyone already present, including Brien the cat draped over Deacon’s shoulder, dozing like a furry baby. This was to be an informal meeting, Allison saw. Everyone was in their pajamas—Thora was in a short white nightgown with a chic oversize ivory cardigan wrapped around her, while Deacon and Roland were both in plaid lounge pants and T-shirts. They’d uncovered some chairs and the old metal camping cot. It seemed all was in place, but for her.

“Well?” Allison said to Deacon. “I’m here. What’s this about?”

“I call this meeting of the Capello brood to order,” Deacon said. Allison sat on a pillow on the floor and rested her back against Roland’s legs, the way she’d done as a kid on Friday night movie night in the sunroom.