Does it hurt this much?” Dr. Emory Charbonneau pointed to a drawing of a child’s face contorted with pain, large teardrops dripping from the eyes. “Or like this?” She pointed to another in the series of caricatures, where a frowning face illustrated moderate discomfort.
The three-year-old girl pointed to the worst of the two.
“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Emory inserted the otoscope into her right ear. The child began to scream. As gently as possible, and talking to her soothingly, Emory examined her ears. “Both are badly infected,” she reported to the girl’s frazzled mother.
“She’s been crying since she got up this morning. This is the second earache this season. I couldn’t get in to see you with the last one, so I took her to an emergency center. The doctor there prescribed meds, she got over it, now it’s back.”
“Chronic infections can cause hearing loss. They should be avoided, not just treated when they occur. You might consider taking her to a pediatric ENT.”
“I’ve tried. None are accepting new patients.”
“I can get her in with one of the best.” It wasn’t a misplaced boast. Emory was confident that any one of several colleagues would take a patient that she referred. “Let’s give this infection six weeks to heal up completely, then I’ll set her up with an appointment. For now, I’ll give her an antibiotic along with an antihistamine to clear up the fluid behind the eardrums. You can give her a children’s analgesic for the pain, but as soon as the meds kick in, that should decrease.
“Don’t push food on her, but keep her hydrated. If she’s not better in a few days, or if her fever spikes, call the number on this card. I’m going away for the weekend, but another doctor is covering for me. I doubt you’ll have an emergency, but if you do, you’ll be in excellent hands until I get back.”
“Thank you, Dr. Charbonneau.”
She gave the mother a sympathetic smile. “A sick child is no fun for anybody. Try to get some rest yourself.”
“I hope you’re going someplace fun for the weekend.”
“I’m doing a twenty-mile run.”
“That sounds like torture.”
She smiled. “That’s the point.”
Outside the examination room, Emory filled out the prescription form and finished her notes in the patient file. As she handed it over to the office assistant who checked out patients, the young woman said, “That was your last of the day.”
“Yes, and I’m on my way out.”
“Did you notify the hospital?”
She nodded. “And the answering service. I’m officially signed out for the weekend. Are Drs. Butler and James with patients?”
“They are. And both have several in the waiting room.”
“I hoped to see them before I left, but I won’t bother them.”
“Dr. Butler left you a note.”
She passed her a sheet from a monogrammed notepad. Break a leg. Or is that what you say to a marathon runner? Emory smiled as she folded the note and put it in her lab coat pocket.
The receptionist said, “Dr. James asked me to tell you to watch out for bears.”
Emory laughed. “Do their patients know they’re a couple of clowns? Tell them I said good-bye.”
“Will do. Have a good run.”
“Thanks. See you Monday.”
“Oh, I almost forgot. Your husband called and said he was leaving work and would be at home to see you off.”
* * *
“Emory?”
“In here.” As Jeff walked into the bedroom she zipped up her duffel bag and, with a motion that was intentionally defiant, pulled it off the bed and slid the strap onto her shoulder.
“You got my message? I didn’t want you to leave before I got here to say good-bye.”
“I want to get ahead of Friday afternoon traffic.”
“Good idea.” He looked at her for a moment, then said, “You’re still mad.”
“Aren’t you?”
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.”
Last night’s argument was still fresh. Words shouted in anger and resentment seemed to be reverberating off the bedroom walls even now, hours after they’d gone to bed, lying back to back, each nursing hostility that had been simmering for months and had finally come to a boil.
He said, “Do I at least get points for wanting to see you off?”
“That depends.”
“On?”
“On whether or not you’re hoping to talk me out of going.” He sighed and looked away, and she said, “That’s what I thought.”
“Emory—”
“You should have stayed and finished out your day at the office. Because I’m going, Jeff. In fact, even if I hadn’t planned this distance run for tomorrow, I’d still want to take some time for myself. A night spent away from each other will give us a chance to cool off. If the run wears me out, I may stay up there tomorrow night, too.”
“One night or two won’t change my mind. This compulsion of yours—”
“This is where we started last night. I’m not going to rehash the quarrel now.”
Her training schedule for an upcoming marathon had been the subject that sparked the argument, but she feared that more substantive issues had been the underlying basis for it. The marathon wasn’t their problem; the marriage was.
Which is why she wanted so badly to get away and think. “I wrote down the name of the motel where I’ll be tonight.” As they walked past the kitchen bar, she tipped her head down toward the sheet of paper lying on it.
“Call me when you get there. I’ll want to know you made it safely.”
“All right.” She slid on her sunglasses and opened the back door. “Good-bye.”
“Emory?”
Poised on the threshold, she turned. He leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. “Be careful.”
* * *
“Jeff? Hi. I made it.”
The two-hour drive from Atlanta had left Emory tired, but most of the fatigue was due to stress, not the drive itself. The traffic on northbound Interstate 85 had thinned out considerably about an hour outside the city, when she took the cutoff highway that angled northwest. She’d arrived at her destination before dusk, which had made navigating the unfamiliar town a bit easier. She was already tucked into bed at the motel, but tension still claimed the space between her shoulder blades.
Not wanting to exacerbate it, she’d considered not calling Jeff. Last night’s quarrel had been a skirmish. She sensed a much larger fight in their future. Along every step of the way, she wanted to fight fairly, not peevishly.
Besides, if the shoe had been on the other foot, if he had left on a road trip and didn’t call as promised, she would have been worried about his safety.
“Are you already in bed?” he asked.
“About to turn out the light. I want to get an early start in the morning.”
“How’s the motel?”
“Modest, but clean.”
“I get worried when clean is an itemized amenity.” He paused as though waiting for her to chuckle. When she didn’t, he asked how the drive had been.
“All right.”
“The weather?”
They were reduced to discussing the weather? “Cold. But I planned on that. Once I get started, I’ll warm up fast enough.”
“I still think it’s crazy.”
“I’ve mapped out the course, Jeff. I’ll be fine. Furthermore, I look forward to it.”
* * *
It was much colder than she had anticipated.
She realized that the moment she stepped out of her car. Of course the overlook was at a much higher elevation than the town of Drakeland where she’d spent the night. The sun was up, but it was obscured by clouds that shrouded the mountain peaks.
A twenty-mile run up here would be a challenge.
As she went through her stretching routine, she assessed the conditions. Although cold, it was a perfect day for running. There was negligible wind. In the surrounding forest, only the uppermost branches of the trees were stirred by the breeze.
Her breath formed a plume of vapor that fogged up her sunglasses, so she pulled the funnel neck of her running jacket up over her mouth and nose as she consulted her map one final time.
The parking lot accommodated tourists who came for the nearby overlook. It also served as the hub for numerous hiking trails that radiated from it like the spokes of a wheel before branching off into winding paths that crisscrossed the crest of the mountain. The names of the particular trails were printed on arrow-shaped signposts.
She located the trail she’d chosen after carefully reviewing the map of the national park and researching it further online. She welcomed a challenge, but she wasn’t foolhardy. If she wasn’t certain she could make it to her turnaround point and back, she wouldn’t be attempting it. Rather than being daunted by the inhospitable terrain, she was eager to take it on.
She locked her duffel bag in the trunk of her car and buckled on her fanny pack. Then she adjusted her headband, zeroed the timer on her wristwatch, pulled on her gloves, and set out.