Trail of Terror, page 3
She wanted her daughter to be a leader in health and medicine. So, it was no big surprise that her daughter Rachel excelled in science and math, then went on to graduate Summa Cum Laude with a degree in Chemistry from Emory University. As if that wasn’t exceptional enough, she had gone on to complete medical school.
A lawyer for a son, a doctor for a daughter…not too shabby, even if her husband swore his family tree was full of nuts.
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MOST NORMAL PEOPLE SOMETIMES step outside on their back porch for a breath of fresh air, it can do wonders for a person’s relaxation. But not for the Robinsons, they loved to entertain relatives, neighbors and employees, have large parties at holidays and for special celebrations and enjoy life to its fullest. Looking for a way to turn their sloped backyard into a place where they could entertain, Hank changed their unused backyard into an entertainment oasis — a cohesive elegant outdoor patio and Mediterranean-style entertaining area — complete with pool and spa, a pavilion with an outdoor kitchen, fireplace and pizza oven, bathroom and storage, two fire pits and plenty of plants. He’d even incorporated space to include several sofas, side chairs, coffee tables, s’mores centers and outdoor televisions.
The large pool had a massive stone-material fountain, with boulders and a naturalistic waterfall, combined with several swimming areas, water gardens, a sun-bathing ledge as well as a naturalistic waterfall. Even the pool lights were color-changing LEDs that put on quite the show.
Hank Robinson had succeeded in converting his backyard from a neglected slope with drainage problems to an incredible outdoor living space that he hoped one day might even be used for his children’s weddings. If they ever got married.
There were at least 30 dining tables covered in white cloths, eight chairs each spread throughout the entertainment area. Each table of guests received its own beautifully plated serving platter of food, which made for a wonderful — and edible — centerpiece. Each table had a large platter of gourmet-style sandwiches, stuffed with turkey, ham, tuna, cheddar cheese, and homemade basil mayo. For the littler guests, there were mini hamburgers, hot dogs, pigs in blankets and apples with peanut butter. Each table had an array of three to five cheeses with contrasting tastes and textures; along with a platter with crackers, baguettes of French bread, roasted red peppers, olives, capers, nuts and assorted dried and fresh fruits.
For themed décor to amuse the guests, some tables had a pan covered in foil to resemble a metal hospital sterile tray, a jar of cotton candy “gauze,” and “stool samples” which were chocolate pudding cups. Other tables had “urine samples,” which were little cups of lemonade, band aids made from graham crackers with candy bark and a dollop of jelly. There were a variety of medical supplies, such as jars of pain relievers — M&M candies in medicine cups — tongue depressors which were wafer cookies and clogged arteries were licorice Twizzlers.
On a serving table in the outdoor kitchen were two gigantic Mississippi mud cakes, both four tiers high. One was chocked full of marshmallows, pecans and walnuts, the other had caramel fruit fillings of cherries and chunks of pineapple. Both had candied tulips and roses on top.
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AN HOUR LATER, HANK, Betty, Clint and Rachel Robinson sat at a table with their longtime friends, the Thomas’s, reminiscing old times and listening to the background music, watching people dance together and have a genuine good time. Everybody was engaged and Hank knew they would leave that evening with lasting memories.
Hank looked at his watch.
It was time for a toast to his daughter. He wanted to make sure she knew how proud they were of her. It took a lot of hard work and determination to make it through medical school, and he felt it only appropriate to have a toast in her honor and share a few words of kindness.
He nodded to his son, who quickly hustled over to turn the thumping music down, while Hank stood up and clanged a spoon against a wineglass to get the crowds attention. He stood ramrod straight with authority, full military bearing even in khaki trousers and polo shirt, hair cut crewcut-style, his ice blue eyes penetrating the crowd.
After many seconds, the crowd gradually quieted down. All eyes on the head table.
Hank raised his glass of wine, and announced, “I would like to propose a toast to my daughter Rachel…this is her day, her finest hour! This is a time to remember!”
He looked down affectionately at his daughter, a big smile of pride on his face.
“Oh, dad…please!” Rachel said, covering her face with both hands, blushing.
Ignoring her protest, he continued his toast, looking down at her with affection, “Graduating from medical school is a huge accomplishment. It is the end of many long years of school and the beginning of long hours of a residency. A med school graduation party is a nice time to honor the achievements of the future doctor before she becomes consumed preparing for her busy career.”
“Everyone, join me in honoring my dear daughter on her graduation from medical school today. Your mother and I were your guardian angels when you were just a tiny baby. Your passion for medicine has chosen you. You are now going to be the guardian angel for many people, those you meet and will get to know as your patients. That is a heavy burden to carry. But we know you are up to it. You’ve got some pretty big wings yourself though. So, wherever you end up, give those patients the wings they need to fly. Find your caravan and don’t let go. Like a military leader, some days you lead and some days you follow. Your family and friends will always be with you on your journey from this day forward.”
The guests clanked their drinks and the crowd roared in unison, “Speech…Speech…Speech!”
Rachel finally stood up, unsure for a few seconds what to say, embarrassed beyond belief. Nearly six-feet-tall, with shoulder-length golden brown hair pulled-back in a ponytail, she wore a black cardigan with some cute cherries on it, over a simple bright red dress cut two inches above the knees, tights and boots. She looked stunningly gorgeous.
She scanned the crowd, finally gathering her thoughts together.
“Wonderful days like this call for good friends, food, and fun. I really can’t express how grateful I am to have all of you here with me today. I don’t like long speeches, so I just want to say ‘thank you’ to my mom and dad for throwing this epic event. As much as I would have liked to cook for all of you…I can’t cook at all — but I know how to take out an appendix or tonsils!”
The people roared with laughter.
She continued on, “Being a doctor has opened my soul. Standing up here has made me struggle a little to find something useful to say that I can share with you, and I’m so grateful you’re all here. You know, you don’t have to be a physician to be a special person. You just have to make your mother and father proud of you. The most important thing I learned from my parents is to live my life with integrity and to not give in to peer pressure to try to be something that I’m not.”
“Medical school is something you complete, life is something you experience. I never worried about my grades, or the results, or success. My medical education has made me realize real success is defined in a myriad of ways…everyone finds it when they understand it doesn’t come with grades. It comes from your own internal sense of decency.”
“Thank you everyone. Cheers!”
As the crowd applauded and cheered, Hank Robinson stood once more and announced, “Everybody have fun and enjoy yourselves, the celebration lasts until it’s time to quit — that’s when I’ll say goodnight and go upstairs to bed. Make sure if you’re drinking you have a designated driver and you get some delicious cake to take home with you…for the kiddo’s, we’re going to have s’mores over at the firepits.”
The DJ Hank hired, along with his son Clint, began to move some dining tables and carve out a front-and-center spot for the dance floor. It wasn’t long before dozens of guests began gyrating and showing off their best moves to the loud beat of R&B, dance pop, hip-hop and reggae music.
CHAPTER 4
RACHEL AND MARCY SAT in comfortable bar stools across from each other at the huge granite island in the kitchen of the house, away from the loud music and noisy crowd, catching up on things. They hadn’t seen each other in nearly a year.
“So, how are you doing Rachel — you still seeing, Bill?” Marcy inquired, taking a swig of beer. “How long’s it been — two years now?”
“Nah, we broke it off about a month ago,” she sighed, taking a sip of wine.
“Why — what happened — was he cheating on you? I never did like that guy, I thought he was arrogant and sometime just downright weird!” Marcy huffed.
“No cheating,” Rachel replied, “but he did start getting a little strange the last six months, I concluded we were emotionally and sexually incompatible — at least I was.”
“Really — like how? You mean like he started wearing women’s clothing-type-strange?” she whispered conspiratorially, leaning forward.
“Well, no — he started telling me he felt like he’d failed me, and that he felt…well, emasculated, his sex drive started dropping quite significantly. It made me feel like he wasn’t attracted to me anymore; I really started feeling upset and insecure about the situation, which in turn he said made him feel even more inadequate and emasculated.
Marcy leaned back away, “Oh, so he was having trouble getting his dick up? Did he masturbate and watch pornography a lot?”
“How should I know,” Rachel answered, flinching a little — then she broke out giggling. “Who are you — Dr. Ruth?”
“You should have checked his browser history,” she pointed out. “I’m not buying that emasculated part.”
“Why?”
“Because if he’s on the hub every day, then first thing comes to mind is he’s not suffering from a low libido, he just wasn’t attracted to you anymore,” she said.
“I advised him to go see a therapist, but he refused,” she shrugged. “I tried to get him to take some zinc magnesium and vitamin D to raise his free testosterone levels…a lot of men suffer from chronically low testosterone, you know. I just didn’t have time to play detective to keep the relationship going, so it was time to move on.”
“I hear you girl…maybe he just needed Viagra — my dad takes it,” she speculated, “heck, you’re a doctor, you could have prescribed it yourself, even slipped it into his drink to put a little lead in his pencil.”
“There you go again, you’ve switched identities from Dr. Ruth, to Dr. Phil!” she grinned. “It finally got to the point I realized I had to tap out; our relationship was stuck in a ditch because he couldn’t deal with the insecurities. Worst thing was though, he always managed to remember Mother’s Day, but couldn’t seem to remember my birthday — that was the final straw.”
“Think of me more like Samantha Stevens,” Marcy said, “instead of Dr. Ruth.”
“Who’s she?”
“You know — the old TV sitcom Bewitched? She tried to hide her witch powers, but they always saved the day…that’s me. The responsibility for removing the root cause of insecurity falls to the person with the insecurity, not you. In this case — Bill. He should have actively engaged with a therapist to figure out why he felt ‘emasculated’ by his lower libido. My imaginary friend thinks Bill may have had some serious issues.”
“And how do you know all this?” Rachel wondered, folding her arms and raising a skeptical eyebrow.
“From my twisted group therapy sessions,” she said. “Menopause, menstrual cramps, mental illness, mental breakdowns, obesity — ever notice that all these problems begin with men?”
“You go to therapy sessions?” Rachel asked.
“Yes, actually I went to see a therapist a few years ago — turn up your hearing aid — my mother thought I was bipolar, or going schizoid — or something like that,” she trailed off. “My parents had this unspoken suspicion I was some kind of lunatic…I probably was a little schizophrenic back then, but we’re both okay now.”
“Wow, I don’t know what to say,” Rachel said.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Marcy quipped, slurring her words a little. “I’ve concluded insanity really doesn’t run through my family, rather it strolls through, taking time to get to know each of us personally. Really, the only thing I learned from the therapy sessions was the way to achieve true inner peace is to finish what I start…so far this evening, I’ve finished three sandwiches, six beers and two pieces of mud cake. I’m feeling pretty content right now, I could probably poop pink poodles.”
“I take it you’re not in a relationship at the moment either?” Rachel asked.
“Nope…you could say that; I love my relationship with my bed. No commitment needed. We’re perfect for each other. We just sleep together every night.”
Rachel busted out laughing.
“What’s so funny? All right then if you must know — actually I’m not single,” she said with false indignation. “I’m in a very long-distance relationship, it just so happens my boyfriend lives in the future and I haven’t met him yet!”
“Stop, you’re cracking me up with your endless cynicism,” Rachel chided. “I guess that’s why I always liked being around you…you’re witty, outspoken, truthful, have a wonderful personality and are not afraid to tell people what you think.”
“Thanks — you make it sound like I’ll only be able to marry a pirate or my cousin,” Marcy lamented. “Enough about me…how about you — I mean, where are going to work now that you’re a doctor?”
“Well, technically I’m not a doctor yet,” she pointed out. “I still have my residency requirement, but thankfully I’ll finally be earning a paycheck.”
“My word, how many more years of school is that — you’ll still be around here won’t you?” Marcy wailed, “I only trust a few people with my woes; you’re like the only close friend I have to talk to about my innermost fears and anxieties.”
Rachel laughed, “Stop already, you’re being melodramatic — I suspect you’re a lot better off than you realize…you can always call me on the phone, or better still — talk to your therapist.”
“You’re starting to sound like my mother…that’s scary. I got like 99 problems — money and a shrink can only solve 75 of them — so how long are you going to be in a residency program, did you say?”
Rachel turned serious, “I haven’t said…but a three-year residency is normally required for doctors going into family practice, internal medicine or pediatrics.”
“I assume you’ve already applied to residency programs?”
“Yes, during my last year of medical school, I started the process,” Rachel responded. “I applied to two different hospital groups: The first was to the WellStar Atlanta Medical Center (AMC) Residency Program in Family Medicine here in Atlanta; the second application was to The Mountain Area Health Education Center’s (MAHEC) Family Medicine Residency.
“I’ve heard of the AMC, but where’s the “MAHEC” located?” she asked.
“In beautiful Asheville, North Carolina, nestled in the Smoky Mountains,” Rachel grinned. She went on to elaborate, “I’ve already been interviewed at both places by a panel of senior residents and attending physicians; and given tours of their facilities.”
“So, when and how will you know if you’re accepted?” Marcy wondered. “Will you like, get a certified letter of acceptance in the mail, or something?”
“No, not hardly,” Rachel explained. “The way it works is you submit your official application electronically into the National Residency Matching Program, or NRMP; the hospitals review applications and they invite candidates they are interested in for an interview. I’ve already done that and submitted a rank order list of my choices to the NRMP. The two residency programs also submitted a list of their candidates in preferred order of acceptance. The information is inputted into a computer program, which uses an algorithm to match students to residencies.”
“So, when will you know something?” Marcy asked again.
“Probably not until mid-to-late June, about a month and a half from now — why?” she asked curiously.
“I was thinking — maybe we can take some time off together — take a little vacation someplace, you know do some much needed ‘me time’ to get away from it all,” Marcy suggested, finishing her beer and opening another one.
“Better slow down on the alcohol there, especially if you’re driving,” Rachel admonished.
I’m okay…I rode with my mom and dad — big mistake.”
“Why?”
“My parents are driving me nuts!” she said. “My mom even insinuated riding over that I was soiling their reputations and I should conduct myself in a professional manner at all times. She keeps harping on me about the Christmas party and how I supposedly made a fool of myself. She even hinted that some business colleagues were talking about me. I even caught her peeking into my iPhone last week!”
“You must have done something to set her off like that — doesn’t seem normal,” Rachel pointed out.
“Well, at the Christmas party I jokingly told a really cute prospective client who was single that I’d do anything he wanted in order to sell his properties,” she admitted.
“Does sound a little on the kinky side,” she offered.
“The funny part was — he wrote me a check for $500 and said, ‘Here…paint my house’,” Marcy cackled. “So, do you want to take some time off — maybe go to Acapulco, Costa Rica, or hang out on a couple of Mediterranean Islands for a few weeks?”
Rachel paused to think for a minute. “I have a wonderful idea, something I’ve been dying to do for some relaxation and exercise.”
“What’s that?” Marcy asked excitedly, her eyes growing large, “Aruba, Antigua — Cayman Islands?”
“No, silly…lets hike a portion of the Appalachian Trail!”
