Part 21 (1/2)
”At the moment, no.” Rising, Sam walked down the hallway and opened the closet door. Taking out her paintings, she propped them against the wall and studied them for a moment without speaking. Finally, she glanced over her shoulder at Anne. ”Is there an art store in Pardo?”
The examination was over and together they sat waiting for the doctor's verdict. Sam had cooperated, patiently answering his questions. She'd been uncomfortable talking about her attack, but Dr. Douglas had gently prodded her into giving a description of that horrific day. It was the first time Anne had heard the story in such detail and from Sam's perspective. No wonder the poor girl had problems, she thought, feeling a stab of guilt over the times she'd minimized Sam's fears. To have your life stripped away like that. To have any sense of safety ripped away. Anne felt she now had a better understanding of why Sam had been so paranoid, so reluctant to leave the cabin, and vowed to be more patient with her in the future.
”Do you think I was drugged?” Sam asked, her voice rising with hope.
”Hmm,” Dr. Douglas said, scanning his notes. ”How long have you been off the sertraline?”
”The one to help with depression and anxiety?”
”Yes.”
Sam gave Anne a sheepish look. ”I can't remember the exact date, but it's been at least a week.”
”And you'd been on it for several weeks, prior to staying at the lake?”
”Yes.”
Tapping his pen on the clipboard, he looked over at Sam, sitting on the examination table. ”Your fiance is correct-one really should taper off this kind of medication. What about the diazepam? How-”
Sam broke in. ”The sleeping medication?”
Dr. Douglas nodded.
Her lip curled. ”I didn't like the way that made me feel, so I only took it a few times.”
”And you were also taking the sertraline?”
”Yes.”
”Other than the blackout, how have you felt?”
”Good,” Sam replied quickly. ”I've felt stronger and had more energy.”
”No dark thoughts?”
”You mean of suicide?”
”Yes.”
”No.”
”Hallucinations?”
Sam paused. Was she remembering the late-night visitor on the dock? Anne wondered. She was so sketchy about when she'd gone off both of her medications that Anne couldn't tell if the visit coincided with her failure to take them. She thought about the cigarette b.u.t.ts Fritz had found by the dock, but they could've been left there by anyone. With a mental shrug, Anne let it go. She had faith in Dr. Douglas. He'd come up with the right diagnosis.
He stood and placed the chart on the counter. ”If you're feeling better, I don't recommend resuming the medications. If you start feeling anxious again, or have trouble sleeping, we'll take another look.” Crossing to the door, he turned. ”Anne, why don't you step out in the hall with me while Samantha gets dressed? Samantha, if you have any more questions, give me a call.”
Stepping out into the hall, Anne shut the door behind her and looked at Dr. Douglas expectantly. ”You think she was drugged, don't you?”
”It's possible,” he answered, rubbing his chin, ”but it's too late now to test for flunitrazepam. The medication Dr. Van Horn prescribed?” He hesitated. ”Since I haven't seen Sam's entire case history, I don't like to question another doctor's choice of treatment.” He shook his head. ”But I usually don't prescribe a combination of those two particular medications.”
”Are they out of her system now?”
”Again, hard to say. Every patient is different. Keep an eye on her and call me if she has any problems.”
Anne watched Dr. Douglas enter the next examination room. Leaning against the wall, she took a deep breath. Who would've thought this job would come with so much drama? She'd never found herself being so drawn into a patient's life. In the past, she'd done her job then gone home. Not this time. With every pa.s.sing day, she was becoming more embroiled in Sam's struggles, and not only the one Sam was fighting to regain her physical strength. Thanks to the last two days, she was now aligned with Sam in her battle to overcome her family's control. Pus.h.i.+ng off from the wall, she moved to the door, but paused before opening it to say a little prayer that this was a fight she and Sam would win.
They were almost to the car when a voice called out Anne's name. Turning, she saw Edward Dunlap hurrying toward them. She stopped and waited for him.
”Edward,” she said, surprised, ”are you here to see Dr. Osgood?”
As he rubbed his arm, his gaze slid toward Sam then quickly away. ”Just did.”
”And?” Anne asked with a hopeful note in her voice.
”He wasn't encouraging,” he answered with a shake of his head, and Anne felt her hope plummet.
”I'm sorry,” she replied, placing a hand on his arm. ”Did he have any recommendations?”
”Not really. He suggested that I try a pain management program.” He shuffled his feet. ”But I'd have to drive down to the Cities.”
”Okay, then drive down to the Cities.”
”I can't. Too much to do here.”
Exasperated, Anne dropped her hand. ”Edward, I've told you before-you need to take care of yourself. Your mother can get along without you for a few hours.”
He gave a bitter laugh. ”I'm sure you're right. Most of the time I think I'm more of a hindrance than a help, but it's no use, Anne.”
”That's not true!” she exclaimed.
He ignored her statement and turned toward Sam. His shuffling stopped as he studied her face. ”You remind me of someone.” His voice dropped to almost a whisper. ”Why did you sing that song at the party?”
Sam s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably and her eyes sought Anne's.
How could Sam answer Edward's question when she didn't remember her performance? Anne tried to think of a way to cover for her, but came up empty.
”Ah, I don't know,” Sam said awkwardly.
Edward looked past Sam while his hand stroked the arm hanging uselessly at his side. His face took on a faraway expression. ”It was her favorite song.”
Anne's eyes narrowed. Whose favorite song?
”Edward,” she said softly, trying to draw him back to the present. ”Who are you talking about?”
His expression didn't change. ”Blanche.” He bit out the name.