you’re now the personal physician for David Madison, former president of the United States.”
***
Tears formed in Rachel Moore’s eyes as she stood on the tarmac of El Dorado International Airport in Bogotá, Colombia, watching the special metal coffin holding the earthly remains of Dr. Ben Lambert disappear into the cargo hold of the private jet. Dr. Lambert, I’m so sorry. I wish I could have done more.
An older man, the silver waves of his hair blowing slightly in the wind, stood beside her. As though he could read her thoughts, he said, “Don’t beat yourself up, Rachel. No one could have predicted this. And you and the others did everything humanly possible. Ben was probably already dead when you found him.” Then David Madison put his arm gently around her shoulders and hugged her.
“I guess I know that,” she said. “But no one expected it. I mean, we all had physicals along with our immunizations before leaving, and he told me he was in tip-top shape for a man over sixty. Then, when we were eating lunch at the church, he was in the bathroom . . .”
“I know. It’s a shock. Ben Lambert was an old friend. We grew up together. And now he’s gone.” Madison took his arm away and looked down at the nurse. “You know you don’t have to be the one to accompany his body back to Dallas. One of the other members of the party could do it.”
“No, I think I need this to achieve some closure. You’ll be coming back in a couple more days, and if there’s a medical problem after I leave, you still have Dr. Dietz and Linda Gaston.”
The door to the cargo hold closed with a thud, and Rachel shivered despite the tropic heat. She lifted her carry-on bag and started to turn away, but Madison stopped her.
“Ben must have sensed something like this might happen, because before we left he spoke to me about another physician he thought should take care of me if he couldn’t.” Madison hesitated. “I think you know him. Matter of fact, I imagine he’s the one meeting you at the airport after you land.”
“You mean Josh?”
“When you see him, please tell Dr. Pearson I need to see him as soon as I return.”
***
The Preston Medical Clinic utilized cutting-edge technology in every aspect of its practice, and records were no exception. All the records were computerized, the information encrypted, ample backup in place. The primary difference between David Madison’s records and others was that the former president’s were more strongly encrypted and only available to the medical staff on a need-to-know basis. Now Josh had that need.
Most of the physicians had gone home for the day, but Josh was still at his computer studying David Madison’s medical records, trying to prepare himself for what he anticipated was going to be his biggest job ever as a physician.
Did Ben Lambert have a premonition something like this might happen? Was that why he named Josh as his successor before leaving on the trip? Maybe there was a clue in his medical records.
Closing down Madison’s record, Josh opened the one for Ben Lambert. His pre-trip physical had been just as thorough as the ex-president’s . . . maybe even more thorough. Then why would he have suffered a sudden heart attack and died? Josh figured it was something weird like a rhythm disturbance. He shook his head. No need for him to agonize over something that had already happened. Maybe the autopsy would tell them, maybe not.
But, no matter what was in Ben Lambert’s medical records, whatever his autopsy would show, one thing remained a certainty. Dr. Ben Lambert was dead, and Josh Pearson was now the personal physician for the immediate past president of the United States.
***
It would be wonderful to get back home to Josh, Rachel thought. They’d been dating for a year, and this was the longest they’d been apart. A mutual friend had introduced them, warning her that he was still a bit fragile from the death of his wife a couple of years earlier. But Rachel rationalized that since her fiancé had dumped her before she moved to Dallas, perhaps she and Josh would be kindred spirits. They proved to be more than that, though. And this absence from him cemented it—her feelings for him were more than friendship. She’d fallen in love with Josh. And she could hardly wait to see him, to pick the right time to let him know.
Rachel looked out the window of the plane, trying to discern landmarks below. She’d always envied people who could look down at the metropolitan sprawl that was Dallas and say, “Oh, I can see my house” or “There’s the building where I work.”
Sometimes, if she was lucky, she might recognize the sprawling campus of the University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center. On rare occasions, she might even be able to spot the Zale Lipshy Hospital where she worked—but not today. She wished she were there right now, checking on patients in the ICU, instead of escorting the body of a colleague back to his loved ones. A wave of guilt washed over her like the rain that streaked past the windows of the plane. Get over it, Rachel. You did all you could. But if that were true, why did something about it all simply feel wrong?
The plane dropped lower, and through the rain she was able to make out street lamps and car headlights. The touchdown was relatively smooth, and soon she heard the roar of reverse thrusters and the squeal of brakes as the pilot brought the jet to a slow rollout. This area of Love Field was reserved for VIPs, and certainly a plane chartered by former president David Madison qualified. She wondered who would meet her—besides Josh, of course. Exactly how would she accomplish the handoff of Dr. Lambert’s body?
The jet rocked to a stop and the engine noise died. Rachel looked out the window and saw that the plane was probably a hundred yards from the terminal building. The male steward unfastened his seat belt and made his way back toward her. “Miss Moore, we’re here. Are you ready to deplane?”
Rachel rose from her seat, took her carry-on bag from the steward, and moved toward the forward door, which had already been folded downward to form a short staircase. She grasped the wet handrail and descended the steps, which were already slippery from the rain. She avoided looking to her left as the airplane’s cargo door opened. Dr. Lambert’s coffin would be off-loaded soon, and she knew that seeing it would tear at her heart.
Then she saw Josh hurrying toward her, oblivious of the rain. His raincoat flapped behind him, the rain on his bare head turned his sandy hair to a helmet from which water streamed down a handsome face. Josh opened his arms toward her, and for the first time in what seemed like days, Rachel felt the clenched muscles in her shoulders relax.
***
As Josh had prepared for his trip to the airport to meet Rachel, he once again took a personal inventory and realized how blessed he was to find love once again. When Carol died two years ago, Josh felt as though his world ended. He was certain he’d never love again. But Rachel changed that. She’d brought sunshine into what had been, to that point, a dark world. Josh was determined not to let her go.
In his vehicle, he tried to imagine how she must feel. Josh knew it was up to him to comfort her and guide her through the next few hours and days. He just hoped he could do it.
He snagged a parking place in the short-term garage at Love Field. Despite a few wrong turns and false starts, Josh managed to navigate the route to where the private jet bearing Rachel would land. He planted himself where he had a good view of the tarmac outside, then stood peering through the large, rain-streaked plate glass window, as though by his actions he could make the plane arrive more quickly. Finally, he saw the small private jet land, traverse a couple of runways, and come to a stop. As soon
