before, that’s all. I hear you loud and clear. I want to be a part of life, not death. There’s an exciting world of potential here…things that I haven’t taken the time to explore at all. Thank you for what you said. I will leave here a different person because of you. I am forever grateful to you for that.”
“Not me, Mr. Kingsley. I’m just the messenger, like we all are, if we allow ourselves to be, that is. Now go, change your life, and be an example for someone else who needs the message. I’ve gotta run now,” Gin lamented as she withdrew her hand and rose to her feet. “The guy next door needs more than any of us can give, I’m afraid. Best of luck to you, Terry. I know you’ll make it, and I’d better not see you here ever again!” Gin added with a no-nonsense wink as she left the room.
Across the hall in room 210, it was a different scene altogether. The medication had mellowed Frank a bit, and he was starting to be a bit less combative, but certainly not what anyone would describe as cooperative. “Hey, tits…I mean toots…oh, whatever your name is, where you been? Little Frankie here’s had a hard-on for you all mornin’!” he grinned, patting a noticeable bulge between his legs and fortunately under the bed sheets.
Gin rolled her eyes. Here we go again. God, I can’t stand this guy. I really just want him out of here. “Hello Mr. Scumby. I see you’re feeling a bit better, now that the cocaine is wearing off. Hopefully we’ll be able to discharge you shortly. Your heart rate and BP have settled down to normal. Looks like your behavior has as well.”
“Well, darlin’, just seein’ that red hair and those tits o’ yours again has made the whole thing worthwhile. One of these days we’ll meet on my turf, and maybe I’ll get to enjoy a few of your other assets,” he grinned sardonically. “The thought o’ you droppin’ your scrubs back there in the hallway’s still on my mind, though. I’d sure like to see that before I go!”
“Not much chance of that, I’m afraid, Mr. Scumby. I’ve got other business to attend to now, so if you need anything else, please don’t ask for me. I have really listened to more than enough of your insulting comments already today. I’m not sure if the doctor is going to discharge you completely or refer you to drug rehab again. Most likely the former, since you seem to have little or no rehab potential. At any rate, have a nice life and thank you so much for gracing us with your presence again today!” Gin was almost out the door when she heard Frank’s parting assessment.
“Cute ass, Red Riding Hood. Hope I’ll see more of it next time!”
Some people never change, she thought. As she passed by Mr. Kingsley’s room, however, she sincerely hoped that he might be an exception.
chapter 15
A Season for Grace
Charleston, South Carolina
December 2005
Ryan squeezed through the aisle of the 727 with his backpack and roller bag as he headed toward the plane’s midsection and seat 21E. He had always loved the window seats and, when flying out of Portland, made it a point to sit on the right side of the plane in order to have the best view of Mt. Hood as the plane ascended just to the north. He was particularly excited today since school was out for the holidays and he was heading home to Charleston. Not only that, but Julian and Ben were right behind him. Ben slipped into the middle seat as Julian struggled to get his carry-ons into the overhead compartment. Ben had never seen Charleston before, and was particularly excited to see this magical place that Ryan and Julian had so often told him about.
“Wow, I can’t believe I’m actually going to Charleston!” he exclaimed as Julian finally got his gear stowed and plopped down into the aisle seat beside him. “You guys have raved about this place almost from the day we first met—and Christmastime too. I know it’s going to be beautiful!”
“It will be,” Julian agreed, catching his breath from the struggle down the aisle, “but maybe not in the way you would expect. There is a timeless colonial sort of spirit in Charleston, so you won’t see all the sensationalism of some modern cities. It’s a softer and more genteel sort of feel—candles in the windows, lots of wreaths, flickering gas lanterns, choirs singing in the churches…stuff like that. Definitely not ten million lights flashing in every possible direction!”
“Good, I’m really kinda tired of all that commercialism, anyway. Actually, I’m looking forward to a little peace and quiet. I’ve never experienced anything but big bustling cities at Christmas, so this should be a welcome relief,” Ben smiled as he tried to adjust his tall lanky frame into the relative close quarters of his middle seat.
Ryan noticed him squirming. “Why don’t you put your pack in the overhead? You’ll be a pretzel after four hours of sitting like that! Just get what you need outa there and you’ll be a lot more comfortable.
“Yeah, good idea,” Ben agreed, pulling out an apple, two celery stalks, and a paperback copy of Larry Dossey’s ‘Reinventing Medicine.’ “This should last me a while,” he smiled and handed Julian the backpack.
Just then, the stewardess’s voice crackled over the intercom, exhorting all passengers to once again endure the federally mandated safety lecture on how to buckle your seat belt or turn your seat cushion into a flotation device. Ryan zoned her out and decided to take advantage of the time together and find out how Ben had been faring at OHSU.
“So, soon-to-be Dr. A, how’s the great medical world at OHSU? They brainwashed you with all that pharmaceutical crap yet?” Ryan grinned as he taunted his friend about what he considered to be a fairly conservative choice in medical education, and certainly not a route that he would have chosen.
“Tryin’ their best,” Ben smiled, “but no friend of Ryan Christie could be even remotely susceptible to all that nonsense! I pick and choose what serves me best.” Brandishing the Dossey book toward his friend, he countered, “You’ll notice I’m not exactly reading the Merck Manual here!”
Ryan laughed. “You know, that does look familiar. Jules, isn’t that the book you were reading last semester for some woo-woo class of yours?”
“Watch it now, Mr. Know-It-All. Yes, indeed it is a book that I have read and thoroughly enjoyed. At least two of the three of us will soon be properly educated,” Julian added, winking at Ben.
“Hey now you guys…” Ryan’s voice was partly muffled by the roar of the engines powering the 727 into the sky and on its course toward the opposite coast. As the plane’s nose edged skyward and the force of gravity pushed them all back against their seats, he continued, “I, myself, am reading a classic by none other than the revered New York Times best-selling author Dr. Dean Ornish. In fact, upon our arrival in Charleston, of the three of us, I shall be the one in sole possession of the keys to ‘Reversing Heart Disease,’ therein preparing myself to rid the planet of yet another malicious and unnecessary malady for which prevention seems a far better approach.” Ryan loved to tease his friends with a most scholarly and erudite delivery.
“What a crock!” Julian chimed in. “Hey man, look out your window—thar she blows, the famous lady of the west, Mt. Hood!” It was a crystal clear morning in Portland, highly unusual for that time of year, but what a treat to travelers heading east. Just to the right of the plane, seemingly only a stone’s throw away, stood a jagged snow-covered precipice piercing the azure sky, welcoming those journeying west or, in this case, bidding fond farewell to those departing the Rose City.
“Unbelievable!” shrieked Ben. “It’s been years since I’ve seen Mt. Hood from the air—just spectacular! Looks like we’re
