Death By Intention

Death by Intention

  by

  Byron Calhoun

  Copyright 2014 by

  Byron Calhoun

 

  Dedicated to my loving wife Kathryn, my special children-Paul, Daniel, Joshua, Faith, Mercy, and, my gracious Lord Jesus Christ to whom I owe all. Soli Deo Gloria!

  “. . .whereunto ye do well that ye take head, as unto a light that shineth in a dark place, until the day dawn, and the day star arise in your hearts.” II Peter 1:19

  This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, business, organizations, and locales are intended to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  James Gerrard Phelan leaned over and shut off the squawking alarm sitting on his night stand by his head. He squinted at the time to make sure he awakened at 5 o’clock AM. His wife Abbey sighed deeply and shifted slightly as she moved away from him to the other side of the bed. She lay there with her shiny, blonde hair surrounding her head like a cascading flow of silvery water. The soft, curved outline of her cheek glowed with the life in the early light as she breathed deeply in sleep. He marveled at his blessing at meeting her and making her his wife. She could have married any man she wanted in the church but she chose him. They met in James’s third year of medical school at a fraternity party he belonged to during his medical school days. Abbey attended only because a good girl friend of hers wanted Abbey to see the frat house and meet one of James’s Christian classmates. James remembered seeing Abbey enter the frat house door. She was dressed in a simple off the shoulder gown of dark blue with her blonde hair swept upon her head. Her blues eyes sparkled with life. James saw her as a willowy, five foot-seven inch goddess, and knew he was smitten the moment he saw her. Abbey, on the other hand, had not been impressed when James stumbled over to her half-drunk to introduce himself. He’d blown that first impression, especially when he spilled his beer all over her new gown. From that night, James harassed, begged, cajoled, and pleaded with Abbey for a date. She refused him categorically but consented to allow him to attend her church with her. James recalled he’d been less than enthusiastic but wanted to impress Abbey so much that he went anyway. The church service turned out to be unlike anything he ever had been involved in at home. The people sang, prayed, and acted like they really believed in “religious stuff”.

  Abbey came alive in the service and fastened a brilliant smile on James as the pastor of the Reformed First Presbyterian Church gave the invitation to come forth and be saved. James looked into Abbey’s deep blue eyes and found himself weeping uncontrollably. He didn’t even know wy at first. . .then, all the emptiness, hollowness, and despondency overwhelmed him. James felt Abbey’s gentle hand on his arm. Abbey guided James down the aisle as he stumbled forward to the front of the church. All the bravado, excuses, and junk poured out of his soul as he met the King of Kings. At first, Abbey seemed skeptical. Even though he’d gone down front to the altar, she felt maybe James went forward to impress her. But, James proved true. He struggled out of the alcohol that he did not even realize he had become addicted to in college and ended his wild, partying lifestyle. Two years later, they were married. God was certainly good.

  He rubbed the “sleepy dirt” from his eyes, shook his head slightly, stretched out his arms, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. James stumbled to the closet, removed his pajamas, and placed them quietly into the drawer. He next put on his running shorts, shirt, pulled on his shoes and socks, and flung his sweats over his shoulder. James loved this time of the day as he awakened taking his time slowly, stretching the sleep tightened muscles. He began with the calves, moved to the quadriceps, hamstrings, and finished with the arms, shoulders, and back. James walked to the back door and turned off the security system. The security system had been a real boost to Abbey’ sense of safety for those long nights he had to stay in the hospital on call. She felt much better with the alarm installed even though they lived in the safe countryside.

  Pulling on the sweats, he opened the kitchen door, and met the twilight, morning air. It had that bite to it this early March morning. James stretched out his legs and arms a bit more. No sense in pulling a muscle due to an inadequate warm up. Zeke, his Labrador, having been all night out in the kennel, began whining to go run with him. Zeke was short for Zechariah, which was appropriate for a chocolate male lab. Zeke was two years old, in his prime of life, and loved nothing better than going out with James for a morning run.

  James approached the kennel and the lab jumped on the gate with his tongue hanging out. Zeke’s eyes danced with delight and his tail became a blur with wagging. The dog possessed the typical lab personality of over affection and consistent desire to be with his people. Zeke stood just shy of 23 inches at the shoulder and weighed in at over 100 pounds. His coat shone in the early light and his broad chest with well developed muscles rippled as he walked. The glow to his coat resulted (according to James) from the secret mixture of egg, mayonnaise, and milk Zeke ate twice a week. Zeke also had the rather droll streak in him as well. The dog loved to tease James at times and knew if he leaned against the gate that James could not get the door open. The door’s lock would catch with the dog’s weight. Zeke never tired of the game, and, each morning they ran he would toy with James.

  “You old jar-head. How’s my boy this morning? You ready to get your legs run off you old rascal?”

  Zeke answered with a whine and a bark.

  “Shhh, you trying to wake up the whole house?” scolded James.

  Zeke just laughed with his mouth and tried to lick James hand as he undid the lock with the key. The gate opened inward and Zeke knew if he stood on his hind legs pushing against the gate, it couldn’t be opened. The brown dog lead into the door and looked James with a sly-doggy face.

  “Come on Zeke. Let me open the gate. We don’t have all day to do this.”

  Zeke merely stood up against the gate and stared innocently at James.

  “You keep this up you big lummox and I am just going to leave you here and to sit. I’ll go run without you,” said James pretending to turn away.

  Zeke knew he’d lost. He whined and jumped down from the gate. James opened the gate and looked at him. “You’re just one loony dog. You know that you big jar-head?”

  The affectionate lab stood up, planted his huge paws onto James’s chest, and licked his face. The substantial lab tongue swiped across his face covering him with sloppy, doggy drool. James laughed and removed the paws from his chest.

  “Okay, okay. I love you too…we need to get going. I’ve the OR today so I need to get done and get in early to see patients. See if you can keep up.”

  They started down the tree lined road that led from the house to the main road. The trees looked just about ready to bud out. The tips of the branches of the oaks and maples sat fat with swollen potential this April morning. James figured that if he ran about an easy, eight minute mile pace he would make the trip to the main road and back in about 45 minutes. The two to three mile route to the main road ran up and down several hills in the deserted country. Their house sat back off the main road on an old farm site with just over 100 acres of land. He ran along the fence to their property and saw Sara’s pony Abe munching on grass. Abe was short for Abraham, the patriarch, since the pony made it to the promised land of the farm. He lifted his head in mile interest, saw James with Zeke, and immediately went back to grazing the sweet, new, tender spring grass. They had lived on the farm almost three years. James completed his OB/GYN residency five years earlier and they had moved to New Hampshire at the same time Sara was not quit
e 2 years old. He entered practice in a middle sized, quaint town called New Bedford. Because of James reputation and hard work, they had been able to purchase the old farm place.

  Zeke ran on ahead sniffing along the fences, scaring up rabbits, and generally enjoying himself. He loved to hunt and James trained him to retrieve not only ducks, but upland game birds as well. Zeke in his first full hunting season the year before had helped James limit out on his hunts several times. The dog never, however, went too far afield but kept a watchful yet on James to make sure he was still following.

  As James ran he noted that the first signs of spring were upon them. The wild jonquils and crocuses in the meadow were blooming and the pasture beginning to green up. The air had a bite but still that hint of promise of the full spring to come. The little shower last night cleansed the air and left a damp, fresh smell. The snow banks were just about gone and James knew it would soon be time to plant the garden and flowers that he and Abbey loved so well. Sara even loved to plant her own little flower garden. She watched over it lovingly and kept it well watered and weeded. Sara seemed to have inherited her mother’s way with plants.

  James drifted along and turned to pray with God. He loved this morning time of prayer and praise with the Lord. It was at this time he let God talk to him about the day, his family, and where God wanted him to go next. Many a morning the Lord moved him to tears of repentance along the old country road. An ancient stump half-way to the main road in a little clearing often became his altar of prayer. He loved this place God had brought him to live.

  James remembered to pray for each of his patients and their surgeries for the day. He often quoted the old Puritan Round head general (whose name he’d forgotten) who had prayed before his battles, “Though I forget thee this day Lord, do not forget me.” He prayed for Mrs. Kenton who he would do a hysterectomy on for an enlarging uterus. He knew she was anxious and prayed for her peace of mind. James prayed for Mrs. Johnson who he would be doing a laparoscopy for pain. He knew she had many other things on her mind as well. Her husband often drank too much and she had to work to keep the family together. He prayed the surgery would not find anything serious and he could reassure her. James made a mental note to talk to her husband again about drinking and Alcoholics Anonymous (AA). His last surgery was Mrs. Prescott-Steuben who represented the oldest family in New Bedford. She was the matriarch of the whole clan, complete with snowy hair piled high in a bun, white parchment-like skin, aquiline nose, and piercing blue eyes. Her family, the Prescott’s, settled New Bedford in 1694. Her marriage to John Winthrop Steuben, III melded the two oldest families in town into a single, powerful influence in the area.

  She came to James almost four years ago as the “new doctor” in town when things were not going well for James in the initial stages of his practice. He had trouble getting into the practice due to many of the older doctors and towns people. The other physicians felt that a young, upstart doctor was a threat to their practices and the people of New Bedford were suspicious of anyone who had not lived in the area since at least 1750. Mrs. Prescott-Steuben arrived at his office with her son John who accompanied her almost everywhere. John, as the oldest body, ran the family businesses. The Prescott-Steuben families formed an alliance of interlocking conglomerates dedicated to manufacturing, trade, farm production, and communications. John adored his mother, although he stood somewhat in her shadow. Mrs. Prescott-Steuben told James she wanted to see him because he was “fresh blood” and desired some different opinions about her health. They became fast friends mostly due to James lack of fear of her and his rapier wit. Mrs. Prescott-Steuben read prodigiously and loved a good verbal joust. James liked nothing more than to verbally parry as well. The two became such good friends because James never allowed Mrs. Prescott-Steuben to intimidate him, often sending the older woman into mock consternation. She had finally decided that she could not live with her “female urinary problem” any longer since it interfered with her busy social calendar. James was to elevate her urethra, tuck up her bladder, and solve her leaking problem. He prayed for good success with the repair which he would do abdominally to repair the urethra and vaginally tuck the bladder.

  By the time James finished praying for his patients, he reached the main road and turned around to head for home. The second half of the run went quickly and he arrived at home with Zeke. After rapidly feeding the dog and checking the automatic water bowl to see it was working, James scurried into the house and began to shed his running clothes. Everything was still quiet. He glanced at his watch and realized he had run closer to 7 ½ minute miles and had plenty of time to spare.

  James wandered into his closet, removed his running togs, and carefully placed them into the clothes hamper. It had taken him while to get used to the idea everything had to be inside the clothes hamper and not on top. One of those peculiar differences between men and women he guessed. James figured that if the clothes were in the same room as the hamper, it was probably good enough, but, he loved his wife so much that he’d learned to be neater.

  He threw on his blue hooded bath robe. It had been a hand-made Christmas gift from Abbey last year and he loved it. She painstakingly cut the pattern, machine double-stitched the seams for strength, and had even hand embroidered above the top pocket on the left hand side the Phelan family crest complete with his initials in red. He always felt a bit like a cowled monk or hooded Druid as he tied the warm terry cloth around his waist and lifted the hood up over his head. James massaged his eyes again and stretched luxuriously.

  He thrust his feet into his slippers and padded down the hall to the bathroom. Along the way, he stopped at the door to Sara’s room. He quietly opened the door and listened for her breathing. In the dim light from the hall, he saw her little form flung across the top of the bedclothes. Her blonde hair shimmered in the semi-darkness. James crept inside and gently placed her under the covers for warmth. The cool March nights were still chilly enough to require blankets. Sara stirred slightly, sighed deeply, and snuggled under the quilt. James stroked her curled locks and smiled to himself. He could never cease to be amazed how God could make such a lovely little person.

  Exiting the room and grabbing a clean towel from the linen closet, James started the shower to let it warm up. He detested a cold shower in the morning. Slipping out of the robe, he took a quick shower using care to wash his hair thoroughly with shampoo-conditioner. He grinned as the plastic head turned off the “doggy shampoo” Sara had given him. Pretty tough to take yourself too seriously after washing in “doggy” shampoo-conditioner. One advantage was he didn’t have to worry about the soap stinging his eyes since it was child-safe! Wandering out of the shower while toweling his hair dry, James stepped in front of the bathroom mirror. Wiping the condensation off the mirror, he saw with satisfaction there was not any spare flesh on his six foot-three inch frame. His running and all the farm work saw to it that he did not get extra poundage. He rapidly combed his auburn hair and shave off his stubble with the electric razor. James went to the kitchen and poured a piping hot, fresh cup of French roast decaffeinated coffee from the pot. They had one of the coffee makers with a programmable timer. By setting the timer to make the coffee while he ran, there was a hot cup of coffee to drink after his shower. He took the paper off the counter that he had thrown there on his way in the house after his run.

  The local paper did carry much “real news” but it had a decent local news section and good business news. James’ eye caught the local headline. “Local Woman Dead at St Francis Hospital” jumped out at him from the front page in bold relief. The article ran, “Local woman Mary O’Brien was found dead in her bed last night at St Francis Hospital. The sheriff’s office will make no comment as to the cause of death pending a formal autopsy by the local coroner.” The rest of the story dealt with the usual particulars about who survived her and her family.

  The story shocked James because he and
his partners had taken care of her throughout her pregnancy. He did not recall Mary having medical problems. He remembered her: a thin, frail little woman with two children and a somewhat shiftless husband Sam. They lived mostly on the welfare rolls except when her husband found work. Curious indeed.

  James skimmed the rest of the paper. He went to the refrigerator searching it for his favorite yogurt: blueberry. He found one and grabbed it. Placing the yogurt on his bran nuggets cereal with some milk, he next poured a glass of orange juice and munched down his breakfast.

  “Nothing carbohydrates, milk sugars, fruit, and non-caffeine coffee for breakfast,” he thought.

  Noting it was now quarter past six, he went back to his closet and laid out his clothes for the day. James carefully selected his tie. He made sure he put on one Sara chose for him the night before. Sara possessed a real eclectic flair for ties. She picked out extremely innovative, colorful, avant-garde, and bright ties. James must wear each one of them or frightfully offend his daughter. Actually, he secretly enjoyed wearing them to shock his patients and staff. His ties were famous in New Bedford and people even called any tie that they saw of a peculiar nature “a Dr Phelan tie”. He chose the wide, orange orangutan tie today. It had large, orange-red orangutans staring out from the cloth. The tie always brought smiles to patients’ faces and was perfect for an OR day to set people at ease.

  He placed a light kiss on Abbey’s brow and silently departed the still house. He gave Zeke an affectionate pat on the head, walked out the door setting the deadbolt, and turned toward the garage.