Eleven
Dr. Varley received the results of David Hartman's
blood tests before leaving his private office at four in the afternoon.
He paid the boy a visit at the hospital on his way home, giving the nurses
at the pediatric station orders to call John Hartman and draw up the
release forms on his way past.
Brown eyes wide with the wonders of the world watched
him enter the room and seat himself on the edge of the bed. David looked
alert. His skin-tone had improved. "Hi, Dr. Varley. I don't want to
sleep here again tonight. The bed's too hard. Can't I go home?"
"I'd like to allow that, David, but you wouldn't talk
to me this morning about what happened to bring you here. If you want to
go home, I need to know what happened last night that enabled you to see
your mother."
David studied him somberly for a moment. "I'll tell
you if you promise not to tell my father."
Dr. Varley sighed his frustration. He hated to lie,
even to a child. "Just tell me what I need to hear, David. Your father
won't hear a single word more than he needs to know. Scout's honor."
David sighed and caved in. "Okay, so it wasn't
really my mother. I was just seeing things."
Which seemed like an odd thing for a child to
confess. "How could that have happened, do you think?"
"Jackie Kahl made me see things," David said. "She
said if I didn't help her, I'd see bad things."
"Bad things?"
David dipped his head in sudden fright.
"Like those bad dreams you used to have?"
David pursed his lips and said nothing.
"Things coming out of the ground, David?"
"Dead people coming out the ground, Dr. Varley."
"Your father said you watched a horror movie a week
after your mother's funeral. How did you manage that?"
"That's just pretend, Dr. Varley. I wasn't so scared
of the dumb old movie."
"Maybe not, but maybe in your dream you forgot about
the difference between real and pretend."
David wrinkled his nose, unconvinced.
Dr. Varley sighed. Perhaps he had been remiss in not
sending the boy to a psychiatric specialist sooner. "Okay, so let's get
back to Jackie Kahl. Who is Jackie Kahl, may I ask?"
"A little girl, but she got swallowed up by something
the green egg left in the trees, and now she's a ghost and can make me see
things. She said if I didn't help her she'd make me see bad things."
"I get it now. And if you helped her, you'd see good
things."
"I guess she wanted to show me what she could do. It
was really nice seeing my mom again."
Dr. Varley felt a lump taking form in his throat.
"You don't believe me," David said. The boy wiped a
tear from his eye. Dr. Varley wondered if he wasn't on the verge of doing
the same himself.
"Doesn't it sound a little incredible that these
things should happen, David?"
David's eyes widened. "It's that mirror in the
bushes doing it! Things go in and ghosts come out!"
"I don't understand."
"Like a Venus fly tray," David explained patiently.
"Bugs go in, and then ghost bugs come out."
"Ghost bugs? No kidding."
"You just see them. They're not really there. You
can't touch them, or shoot them with a BB gun. That's the whole point,
Dr. Varley. The bugs make the birds follow them to the mirror."
"Birds? What happens when the bird goes in?" Dr.
Varley said. "Do birds come out?"
"Ghost birds. And the cats chase them back in."
"And ghost cats come out?"
"Tony and Steve shot at them with BB guns. Jackie
got all mad at them, and she went in after the cats."
Dr. Varley sighed in despair. "And that's how Jackie
Kahl became a ghost."
David's eyes widened. "Yeah! It's really spooky,
Dr. Varley!"
"Is your mother a ghost, too, David?"
"No, it's not like that!" David cried in mounting
exasperation. "It was the time when Mom gave me the white kitten. That
happened a long time ago, but the kitten's for real. An old lady up the
street's got it."
Dr. Varley puzzled over the boy's unwavering
conviction that he was dealing with reality. Most children understood the
nature of their make-believe. David had suddenly begun to take his at
face value.
"Can I go home now, Dr. Varley?"
"You're father's on his way. He and I will discuss
it."
"Am I sick?"
Dr. Varley managed an insincere smile. "Yep, except
you're pretty healthy for as sick as you are."
"I need new valves," David said with a grin.
The joke they shared was an old one. "Just like some
old jalopy."
"Uncle Sam's gotta pay for it. My Dad says his VISA
card is maxed out."
Dr. Varley's thoughts refused to be diverted from
more somber matters. "What happens if I let you go home this afternoon,
David? Can you handle the excitement of your ghost friend, do you think?"
"I guess I'll have to help it." David seemed
thoroughly haunted by the notion. "I can't let my dad know." He raised
eyes wide with fear. "He doesn't believe me either, except that I don't
want him to."
"Because Jackie Kahl will lure him to this magic
mirror, and then he'll become a ghost, too?"
David wrinkled his nose. "Yeah."
"Just like your mother?"
David sighed in dismay. "It's okay, Doctor Varley.
It doesn't matter if you believe me or not."
"As long as your father doesn't."
David nodded tentatively.
Dr. Varley went over the logic of the boy's fantasy,
hoping for a loose end with which to unravel the tale and bring David back
to the real world. He found only one possibility to bring to David's
attention.
"What happened to the real Jackie Kahl, do you
think?"
"Got eaten up, I guess."
"Like the birds and bugs?"
"They all fell in the mirror."
"What's going to happen if things keep falling into
the mirror, do you think?"
"I don't know, except it's not very big. I don't
think it wants to eat everything up. If it did, I sure wouldn't want to
help. I guess I'd have to tell Sheriff Packerson."
The rest would have to wait for another time. Dr.
Varley stood and ruffled David's hair. "Wait here, son. I'll see if your
father has arrived yet."
Stepping out of the room, a nurse gestured with a nod
toward the waiting room. Dr. Varley found John Hartman pacing
restlessly. John rushed across the floor to meet him.
"Well?"
"He checks out in the skin and bones department," Dr.
Varley said. "I can't tell what's going on upstairs. He's got an
imagination that won't quit. I think he knows the difference between
reality and fantasy. It would take time to determine why he prefers the
fantasy."
"So what do I do?"
Dr. Varley shrugged, feeling helpless. "For the time
being, take him home and turn him loose. Don't be too hard on him."
"I've cut him lots of slack in that department, Doc.
Marlene encouraged him."
"As long as he's not acting on his fantasies and
risking injury or illness. If he has further difficulties, give me a call
or run him to the emergency ward."
"What will you do then?"
"I'll need to refer him to a specialist," Dr. Varley
said.
"A shrink?"
"We'd try a psychologist first."
John Hartman grew visibly agitated.
"You've applied for SSI," Dr. Varley said, well aware
of John's sensitivity to the boy's mounting expenses. "The bills will get
paid."
"I don't like handouts."
"You'll be back on your feet sooner that you think."
John extended his left hand. "I don't know what we'd
do without you."
Dr. Hartman shook the offered hand. One final point
needed clearing up before turning father and son loose. "David has
mentioned a Jackie Kahl a number of times. Isn't that Orville Kahl's girl
he's talking about?"
John turned suddenly pale. "She's missing. Sheriff
Packerson has a search team out looking for her now."
Dr. Varley was shocked. "I should have been
informed."
"I just found out myself. Apparently, David and a
couple of his friends were playing with the girl on the slope. Sheriff
Packerson is still checking into it. I was going to ask before I left if
you think David can stand up to a friendly interrogation."
Dr. Varley was appalled by the apparent explanation
for the boy's behavior. "Have you considered that David's story may be a
cover for something unpleasant he may have witnessed?"
John fidgeted nervously. "The sheriff suspects the
same thing. Two other boys were involved, and David's not the only one
telling tall tales. Packerson won't know if there's a connection until he
finds the girl."
"Remind the sheriff that David's under my medical
supervision," Dr. Varley said sternly. "Don't let him get overly excited,
or we'll have a crisis of another sort on our hands."
"I know the routine."
"The boy has an emotional problem of some kind. Get to the
source of it, or let me refer him to someone who can. Give me a call
tomorrow. Until then…" He nodded down the west hall. "Cubicle five.
He's all yours. And good luck."
Dr. Varley watched John Hartman turn away, aware that
he was witnessing an unfolding tragedy. Neither boy nor father could
afford to shoulder a heavier burden. David was the only influence in
John's life keeping him afloat. John had slipped up once and had cost his
wife her life. Now he had David's heart disease to cope with.
David's situation was hopeless. A subtle immune
system disorder and the resulting assortment of allergic reactions had
kept the best medications out of the boy's reach. If he was forced to
operate prematurely, he wouldn't be able to guarantee the availability of
an effective anti-rejection drug. He needed to hold off the operation for
as long as possible in the hope that new technologies and new drugs would
provide what David needed. But every day they waited put David's damaged
heart one day closer to complete failure.
Dr. Varley turned away with a shake of his head. He
helped heal more patients than he lost, but David was an unpleasantly
reminder that his original motives for joining the medical profession had
been, to some extent, heartbreakingly naive. For some, not even a
kind word would help.
