“I need a shrink.” She burst into the doctor’s private office.
“I told her she needed an appointment…” The nurse said, behind her.
The doctor looked confused. “But, I’m a pediatrician.”
“I know,” Moriah said. “You were my doctor when I was little. Do you remember when I was five and came back from South America after my parents were killed?”
He peered at her more closely. “Aren’t you Katherine Robertson’s niece?”
“The child who didn’t talk for two years?” Moriah said. “Yep. That’s me.”
“But you did start to speak again. It just took some time. I heard that you were doing fine.” He fiddled with a paperweight contrived of miniature golf clubs. Moriah noticed that his hands shook. “Why do you think you need a shr… a psychologist?”
“Because I’m not doing fine.” Moriah put both of her hands flat on his desk and leaned toward him, keeping her voice low and steady. “I can’t cross a bridge. I can’t fly in a plane. I can’t cross the gangplank onto the ferry. I have nightmares. I need help and I don’t know who to contact.”
“Check with my office staff. They might have a list of numbers you can try.” He unclipped his stethoscope and stuffed it into his top drawer. “You’ll have to excuse me. Morning office hours are over and I need to go home.”
Moriah, stunned, stood back and let him pass. There were other doctors on the island she could have approached, but she had been so physically healthy as an adult that she had never needed to see one. This was the only doctor she knew. Her memories of him were ones of kindness. His abrupt departure stung.
“He really is a good doctor,” the nurse whispered behind her, “but he has the beginning stages of Parkinson’s and tires easily. He wants to retire and there isn’t anyone to take his place.”
“I’m truly sorry about that, but I need some answers.”
“Come to the front office,” the nurse held the door open for her. “I might have some information I can give you.”
“A list of shrinks?” Moriah cocked an eyebrow.
“No. More than that. My cousin suffered from severe panic attacks too,” the nurse said. “She tried a lot of different therapies and therapists, but eventually found one who really helped. She said the therapist was a little different in her methods, but they worked.”
The nurse found the number in the office Rolodex, scribbled it on a card and handed it to her.
“Where is he located?” Moriah asked.
“He’s a she.”
“Where is she located?”
“Cleveland, Ohio,” the nurse said. “But I doubt she’ll be willing to work with a patient over the phone.”
“Actually,” Moriah pocketed the number. “I was wondering if she liked to fish.”