Shark Out of Water, Page 3

  “I likeyouracc…ent.”

  Guy patted her hand briefly. He knew they had needed to sedate her when the police brought her in because of her violent outbursts, and an evaluation would not be possible for several hours, but he had wanted to be sure she was all right… physically, at least. The bruises and cuts spoke to the assault she instigated, which got the police involved, but she looked as well as could be expected.

  “I’ll be back soon to check on you, okay, Patricia?” She nodded slowly, as if the movement took a great deal of concentration. Saddened by the state she was in this time, Guy slipped out of the room quietly. By the time he made it to the nurses’ station, his mood had little hope of improving.

  “Good morning, Dr. Guy,” Kit said. Hardly anyone used his last name, because most could not pronounce it properly, and they all knew it bothered him when it was said incorrectly.

  “Bounjour, Kit.”

  She chuckled a little when her name came out sounding more like “keet” than “kit.” “You know, it’s kinda ironic you get so frustrated that no one can say your name, but you pronounce all of ours wrong every day.” Her grin made it clear she did not mind that he had difficulty forming the short “I” sound Americans loved so much.

  “Oui, but you all like how I pronounce your names because you think my accent is sexy.”

  Kit laughed, making him smile just a little. As much as Guy enjoyed a bit of playful banter with the nurses on the floor, he never took it further than a casual attempt at making someone smile or laugh. They all knew that and enjoyed pestering him about his accent and outgoing personality. The levity fell away quickly, though, as Guy’s thoughts turned back to Patricia.

  “Someone can page me when Ms. Adams is more lucid, yes?” Guy asked. “I need to go down to oncology again to help Dr. Kelly with another grief counseling session.”

  Smiling gently, Kit said, “Of course. We’ll keep a close eye on her for you.”

  As Guy stepped out onto the oncology floor, he could not help scanning the immediate area for Charlotte. It was foolish. He knew their run-in was only chance before. He was familiar enough with the staff on the floor to be sure she did not work there. She was most likely delivering paperwork or following up on something with one of the doctors the previous day. There was no reason for her to be there again, but still, he searched for her. By the time he made it to Dr. Kelly’s office, and had not spotted her, his already questionable mood had deteriorated even more.

  When Kelly met him at the door, he frowned in concern. “Everything all right, Guy?”

  Sighing, Guy rubbed a hand across his face. “Patricia was brought in again.”

  Kelly gripped his shoulder tightly. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He shook his head. “Any chance of getting her to go to an inpatient facility this time?”

  “Not without a court order.” Saying the words stung. Guy hated the idea of committing her against her will, but he knew it was likely the only option left to him. He tried not to think about it too much until he had a chance to talk to her.

  Kelly didn’t say anything else, just patted Guy’s shoulder in sympathy. He was kind enough to give Guy a few minutes to compose himself before opening the door to his office and holding it open for him. Taking a deep breath, Guy stepped in to face an elderly man whose last round of chemotherapy had had no real effect. He was at the end of his life, yet, as Guy sat down across from him, the man smiled.

  “I told Dr. Kelly I didn’t need any counseling,” the man said, “but he insisted.”

  “If you are not ready to talk yet, that is all right, Mr. Franklin,” Guy said.

  The man shook his head. “It’s not that I’m not ready to talk. I don’t need to.” His smile was firm, even though his hands were trembling from age and weakness. “I knew from the beginning I wouldn’t have the strength I needed to beat this, and I made peace with that a long time ago.”

  “Understanding that you may not survive is very different from being faced with it,” Guy said.

  “I supposed it is, but I’d already reached the end of my life before I found out about the cancer. I’m almost ninety years old.” Mr. Franklin reached over and patted Guy’s hand, as if he was the one in need of comforting. “My wife passed seven years ago. I’m ready to be with her again.”

  Guy had nothing to say to that. He had seen patients in denial, and this man was not one of them. He was completely at peace with the fact that his life would only last a few more short months. Comfort came from his belief that he would see his wife again, and it was a belief Guy shared. Strangely, Guy felt a sad smile creep onto his lips.

  “I am sure she will be waiting for you,” he said quietly.

  “I know she will be.” Mr. Franklin patted his hand gently before standing with some effort. Guy stood to help him, but was waved off. The man thanked Dr. Kelly on his way out.

  The two doctors said nothing for a long time. It was Kelly who spoke first. “I wish all my patients could see things the way he does.”

  Guy nodded, but inwardly, he wished the same for himself. What would it be like to have such surety, such peace? To Guy, everything was uncertain. Love, relationships, happiness. It could only be trusted when held at arm’s length, too far away to really effect you.

  “Dr. Guy,” a voice called out over the intercom, interrupting his thoughts, “please return to the psychiatric floor.”

  “Uh-oh, you’ve been away from your nurses too long. They’re calling you home,” Dr. Kelly said, trying to lighten the mood between them.

  In truth, Guy would have taken angry nurses over having to confront Patricia. Dieu aidez-moi, Guy thought as he walked away. He certainly needed some kind of higher power on his side if he wanted to help Patricia somehow. It was a long trip back to his regular floor.

  “The sedation is wearing off,” said one of the nurses, this one an older woman named Christine.

  “How is she doing?” Guy asked.

  Christine grimaced. “Well, she tried to bite Kit when she attempted to adjust her gown. She’s asking for you, though. Says you’ll get her out of here.”

  Shaking his head, Guy walked toward Patricia’s room. There was little chance, at that point, that he would be able to release her after the hold expired. Going off her meds—not that Patricia would ever admit to that—and being found wandering through grocery stores harassing people was one thing. Actually taking it to the level of assaulting other street dwellers and then attacking the police when they tried to subdue her was a whole different story. Now she was trying to bite hospital staff. How did it come to this? Guy wondered.

  By the time Guy walked into Patricia’s room, he had little hope left. She had run out of free passes. Second chances only lasted so long before people gave up. Guy was not writing her off, but he was beyond believing she could take care of herself and not harm others.

  “Dr. Guy,” Patricia said slowly. “I knew you would come.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, eyes darting every which way. “They’re trying to keep me here, but I knew you wouldn’t let them. We have to get out of here before they come back!”

  “Before who comes back?” Guy asked.

  Patricia’s body sunk in on itself as she scanned every inch of the room with her eyes. “The little blonde one. She wanted to put something in my arm, but I wouldn’t let her. They’re trying to poison me, Dr. Guy. They don’t want me to talk to you anymore. They don’t want me to talk to you, either.”

  “The voices?” Guy asked.

  “The ghosts,” Patricia said seriously.

  Talk of ghosts was not uncommon for Patricia. She had always associated the auditory hallucinations she heard, due to her schizophrenia, with ghosts speaking to her from beyond the grave. It did help Guy estimate how long she had not been taking her medication. Patricia would deny being off her meds, but Guy knew her too well to be fooled. Usually ghosts did not show up for her until after at least two weeks off meds. Voices combined with the paranoia and violent tendencies were a cle
ar indication that Patricia was not going anywhere any time soon. Guy listened patiently as she told him about everyone she thought was trying to kill her and what the voices were suggesting she do about it. He listened until she could talk no longer.

  “Patricia, you remember what I told you the last time you were here, yes?”

  “Yezzzz,” she said, dragging out the “Z” sound to mimic Guy.

  “What did I tell you?”

  “Stay out of trouble.” She said it calmly, but a few seconds later her head began swinging back and forth wildly. “They came after me, Dr. Guy. I had to fight back. I won’t let them take me away. They can’t have me. I’ll kill myself before I let them take me! I will, Dr. Guy, I will!”

  Guy’s hands pressed down on his thighs, trying to quell his emotions. He cared for all his patients, but he tried not to get too emotionally involved. Becoming too close only made it more difficult when things did not go to plan.

  “Patricia,” Guy said calmly, “I will not let anyone hurt you, yes? You know this. I will keep you safe, but I cannot let you go home. You are too sick to take care of yourself, correct?”

  Her eyes widened in fear, and Guy braced himself for her reaction. It came in the form of screaming and as many curse words as she could think of. Sitting in front of her with a passive expression that was completely false, he took in her accusations and let guilt wash over him.

  “I hate you,” Patricia wailed when her screaming finally stopped. Tears ran down her cheeks, but she hardly seemed aware of them. “You said you would help me, but you’re going to let them hurt me. I know you will. You have to let me go. I can’t stay here.”

  Guy knew nothing he said would convince her he was trying to help. It broke his heart to see her in such a manner, feeling so scared and alone. There was nothing he could do to comfort her and make her see that she would be safer at an inpatient facility than back on the streets. Guy’s heart was heavy while he held her bound hand calmly as she cried and hated him. S'il vous plaît, que ce soit le bon choix, Guy prayed, let it be the right choice to help her.

  Chapter 4

  Un Bon Homme

  Seventy-two hours after Patricia was brought to the hospital by the police, Guy signed the court order that would transfer her to an inpatient psychiatric facility for the next ninety days. He recommended the move to the judge who had issued the order, but guilt still plagued him as he signed the last page. He hoped it would help, but he feared they would be in the same situation shortly after she was released if she did not voluntarily agree to stay longer. Guy sighed and collected the paperwork. He had said his goodbyes earlier since he knew leaving Patricia would be difficult and he did not want to be late for that night’s festivities.

  Guy handed the paperwork over to Kit feeling rather worn out. She took it from him solemnly. “She’ll be okay, Dr. Guy. They’ll take good care of her.”

  “I know.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair. “I know they will take care of her.”

  “She’ll forgive you once she’s had a chance to calm down.” She smiled, but it was lined with sadness. “You better get going. You’re going to be late if you don’t leave now.”

  “You are right, as usual.”

  “I’m always right,” Kit said with a wink. “Now go have fun at your friend’s wedding rehearsal. Aren’t you the best man or something?”

  Guy chuckled. “Co-best man. Eli could not choose only one, so Vance and I will share the responsibility.”

  “Well, go enjoy yourself, then. Leave work at work.” Kit nodded as though it was all that needed to be said. It was not so easy for Guy. He smiled, regardless, and wished Kit a good evening before heading for the elevator.

  It was not until Guy made it all the way to the reception hall—fifteen minutes late, thanks to traffic—that his spirits finally began to rise. The sight of one of his best friends so happy after so many years of sadness and pain, lifted Guy out of his own unhappy thoughts. Then there was Leila. Seeing her grinning so brilliantly made him smile. He teased her relentlessly, but she knew he adored her. He was very glad for his friends.

  “Guy!” Leila called out as she rushed over to him. “You finally made it! We were beginning to fear some cute nurse stole you away from us. Vance was ready to demote you to regular groomsmen and steal Best Man for his own.”

  “Vance would not dare,” Guy said as he wrapped Leila up in a hug. “And I only wish it was a nurse who had stolen me away. I would have shown up smiling instead of feeling like I have been… what is the saying, hit by a car? Please forgive me, Leila.”

  “You don’t have to apologize, Guy.” Leila slipped her arm casually through Guy’s as they started walking toward where the others were gathering. She looked up at him with concern in her eyes. “Are you doing okay? You really do look worn out and upset. If you’re not feeling up for this, you can head out. We understand.”

  Guy smiled at her concern. “I am fine. Just trouble with a patient. I cannot miss Eli practicing se passer la corde au cou.” Looking up at him with a smile and a scowl, Leila jabbed him in the ribs. “What? You don’t even know what I said!”

  “Put a rope around his neck? Is that how you see marriage?” She rolled her eyes at him, but was still smiling. Of all his friends, Leila seemed to see more than what he put on the surface. “Come on. Let’s get this started so we can eat. I’m starving.”

  Chuckling, Guy gestured for her to lead the way. Leila was a very petite woman. He had no idea where she put all the food she ate. As everyone took their places for the rehearsal, Guy’s mind was happily occupied by the process. It kept other, less pleasant thoughts at bay. He was almost sad when the rehearsal concluded. Luckily, Eli and Vance where there to continue the distraction.

  “So,” Vance said, “was she blonde or brunette?”

  Guy shoved his friend away. “Neither.”

  “Redhead, then,” Eli said with a laugh.

  “Nosy friends,” Guy said, feigning annoyance.

  “Nosy, huh? When have you ever been one to kiss and not tell?” Vance accused. Both men laughed at Guy’s expense, but neither of his friends meant it. In fact, their expressions were more concerned than teasing.

  Both knew of his history with Patricia from their university days and their psychiatry fellowship after medical school. He had also sought advice from both of them when she was brought in, so they knew why he was not his normal jovial self. Neither said anything about Patricia here, but they understood and sympathized. He knew they had his back, as Vance would say.

  As everyone involved in the rehearsal headed toward the smaller adjoining dining room for dinner, Guy felt himself begin to relax. Leaving his home in Paris had not been an easy choice. His mother did not understand why he wanted to study in the United States, or why he did not want to return home once he finished, like he had originally planned.

  It had nothing to do with them, as she feared. He missed his parents and visited as often as he could. He even loved living in Paris, and enjoyed the French countryside where his parents had retired to after Sabine left home even more. Wanting to study in the U.S. had more to do with getting away from what he knew and being on his own, having an adventure. Not going home…that was a more difficult reason to pin down.

  “So everyone needs to be here at least two hours before the ceremony tomorrow,” Ana said.

  Everyone rolled their eyes. They had all heard this many times. Guy knew everyone was still in awe that Ana, Leila’s boss and best friend, had somehow managed to get the wedding planned and set up in less than three months. From their engagement in August, to the wedding in mid-November, Ana had been a flurry of wedding plans. She was also pregnant and nearing her due date. No one wanted to argue with a pregnant woman, even one who was generally very pleasant.

  “I think everyone is ready for tomorrow,” Leila said kindly.

  Guy looked at his friends. Both seemed so relaxed. That would not be him on his wedding day…not that he planned on getting married. G
uy had nothing against marriage, other than not seeing any point in it. Two people rarely managed to enjoy each other’s company for a long enough period to remain married. People like his parents were an exception, though he suspected Eli and Leila would be as well.

  “Are you not nervous?” Guy asked. “Either of you?”

  Eli leaned back comfortably in his chair, pulling Leila under his arm. “After everything we went through to get here, not a chance.”

  Leila lifted her chin, kissing Eli and effectively agreeing with him.

  Guy smiled at them, glad they were happy, but even happier his life was not so filled with change and upheaval as theirs. When dinner was over, he would go home to his flat to relax, where everything was exactly as he had left it, where he could count on life to be as expected and not filled with the uncertainty of change.

  “Guy, are you bringing anyone tomorrow?” Leila asked. “You never said for sure and I wanted to make sure, if you do, someone can find your date and show her to Stephanie’s table, since you’ll be at the wedding party table with us.”

  He hated to disappoint everyone’s expectations, but Guy only said, “I believe I will be going… deer?” Guy shook his head, knowing that was not the correct word.

  “I think you mean stag.” Vance laughed. “You’d think you’d have gotten a few of our sayings down by now.”

  “I would have if they made any sense,” Guy grouched.

  “Oh, like French idioms make sense?” Eli laughed. “What’s the one you use any time we go anywhere fancy? Mettre les petits plats sur les grands?”

  “Oui, but it makes perfect sense!”

  The others all shook their heads except Ana. She did not know Guy well enough to have picked up his French sayings. “What does it mean?” she asked.

  “To put the little plates on the big plates,” Eli offered. “It’s like saying roll out the red carpet.”

  Ana seemed confused. “What does stacking plates have to do with anything?”

  “Seriously?” Guy asked. “When you prepare for a dinner party, the salad plate must be stacked on top of the dinner plate. The phrase speaks of preparing for a grand party. It is perfectly explained.”