Paper Alley, page 17
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Walking into the kitchen where Julie was preparing lunch, Dan kissed her neck. He made a growling noise. Happy—he just wanted to be in touch with happy. Even though his appetite had waned lately, the aroma of garlic was tantalizing. Julie sautéed mushrooms, onions, and garlic to mix into angel hair pasta and olive oil. She had a loaf of garlic bread heating in the oven. He didn’t feel like eating, but he would. For his health, he knew he had to. Julie wilted handfuls of spinach by mixing it with the hot pasta.
“Hey, Dan, you startled me. How’d it go?”
“I guess I should have coughed more before I came into the room.”
“Not funny, Dan. Your color . . .”
“What about my color?”
She hesitated. “You look grayish, how do you feel?”
“Well, grayish, I guess. I just ran into Fred Black. He said he was going to buy this house off Widow Winslow. He said you might even get to like him after I’m dead. It’s how I feel, dead.”
“Not funny, Dan. Don’t say such things. Did you really see Fred Black?”
“Yes, and he really said it. I wanted to hurt him, but I’m too weak. All I did was cough.”
Julie put her arms around Dan and rubbed his back. She rested her head against his shoulder.
“More importantly, I saw Zane’s new friends. They were hanging out at the gas station, smoking. The professor’s kid looks like a real loser.”
“What can we do?”
“I’ll think on it, push the pause button.”
“I researched all morning. Didn’t find too much yet. Oh, and the doctor called . . . the immunologist. He wants you to call him right away. He gave me his personal cell number. It’s on the paper, on the counter. He said your test results are back, at least some of them.”
“I’ll call him after we eat.”
“Call him now, Dan. Lunch won’t be ready for twenty more minutes.”
Dan picked up the paper and went into the living room. He sat on the couch, closed his eyes, and whispered a little prayer. He wanted to know, but he didn’t want to know. He dialed the number.
“Hello.”
“Hello, this is Dan Winslow. My wife said you called.”
“Oh, yes, Dan, we need to talk. I would like you to come into my office first thing in the morning. Can you be here at eight?”
“Sure, I can be there. My wife said you have my results back.”
“Yes, yes, yes . . . I put a rush on some of them, the ones I had suspicions about. The others aren’t quite so critical. We can go over everything in the morning.”
“Can you tell me what you know?”
“In the morning, Dan. This evening I’m going to do some research on your prognosis. Oh, by the way, would you happen to be a spelunker by chance?”
“You mean someone who crawls around in caves? No, not at all, why?”
“Do me a favor, Dan, and do a lot thinking tonight. Try to remember if you might have done any crawling around in confined spaces in the last six months.”
“Okay, I’ll think about it. See you in the morning.” Dan sat back. Strange—confined spaces, spelunking, what does any of this have to do with this cough? The garage! I cleaned out the garage . . . it was like a dark, old cave, but it was long before this cough started . . .
He dozed off mid-thought.
Julie came in to check on him. She didn’t wake him. She just watched him breathe. He sensed her. His eyes opened, looking tired. Julie sat next to him putting her hand on his thigh.
“Lunch is ready,” Julie whispered. “What did the doctor say?”
“He’ll tell me first thing in the morning. He’s researching my prognosis this evening. He asked me if I was a spelunker—strange, huh?”
“A spelunker, what . . .”
“I don’t know. The only thing I can think of coming close to spelunking is when I cleaned out the old garage. Remember how packed it was?”
“Come on, let’s eat.” Julie’s hand pushed down on Dan’s leg as she stood, so he grabbed it and pulled her into his chest for a hug.
“Remember yesterday when Klaare showed me the Bible I had given her? I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“You mentioned it yesterday. You’re talking about Mr. McDonath being shot while he was coon hunting with Lee.”
“The Bible just lists events, it doesn’t give much detail. The first is the burning of the resort down in the Gorge, followed by Jim McKenzie’s death, the accidental shooting of Harry McDonath, and then the doctor’s body being found. Why would Louise McKenzie list those four events in her Bible? Is there some connection between them? Maybe I’ll find out more from the church records.”
“I don’t know. Is there anything else in the Bible?”
“There are, but I can’t make much sense of them. They’re not in Louise’s hand. They match the letters written by Jim McKenzie; he lists some Psalms, like Psalms 12, 55, and 59. Maybe you can make some sense of them.”
“I’ll have a look, but not right now—I’m too exhausted to think. I have to get up to go see Dr. Cohen. I already know what these guys want. They want to open the alley.”
“Open the alley?”
“Yes, our driveway is what is known of as a paper alley. It is the single access to plots of land in the field and woods behind our house. Wentreck owns the land, purchased by his grandfather way back in the roaring twenties. I saw it when I was looking for information at the courthouse. Then I wasn’t even aware of Val. Now it all makes sense. Maybe the battle over this alley involved Val’s grandfather and Big Jim McKenzie.”
Julie helped him to sit up. “I know about the paper alley, Mr. McDonath told me. It didn’t seem to matter much at the time.” They supported each other down the stairs. “You know, in the letter I read, Louise’s maiden name was Haines.”
“Interesting. The Haines family owned the land between us and the Gorge. According to the records, they sold it to Wentreck. Where are the boys and Tim?”
“Tim took them and Klaare into the city to shop for Christmas.”
“Nice, just me and you?”
“And maybe for tomorrow night as well. Zane says there is a Christmas party tomorrow night at the professor’s house.”
“What? I thought they weren’t believers.”
“It’s what I’ve been told. I guess they celebrate the holiday, though.”
“They should, they get a nice break for it. Zane isn’t going.”
“He’ll be upset.”
“So?”
TWENTY
Dan arrived at Dr. Cohen’s office twenty minutes early. It was now twenty after eight, and he was still sitting in the waiting room. The long drive and now this wait had given him too much time to think. Apprehension gripped him. He held in his cough as if doing so might change the doctor’s findings. He tried to tell himself he wasn’t sick—the whole thing was just his imagination or maybe the stress from the situation about the house. Dr. Cohen was going to tell him he just needed to rest. Spelunking? No, there was more to all this than just stress.
The nurse stepped into the waiting room. Dan tried to read her face. She had a concerned look about her as she announced his name, then asked him to follow her. Dan felt a burning in his nose, his breathing inadequate. Light-headed, he entered the examining room where the doctor sat waiting for him. He hadn’t heard a word, and yet he already sensed what he was about to hear wouldn’t be good. When he sat, it was as if his head had not lowered with his body, as if he were looking down at himself and the doctor.
“Good morning, Dan.” The doctor’s voice didn’t hide a thing. This wasn’t a good morning at all.
Dan nodded in response.
“Dan, I believe in being blunt . . . you are a sick man.” The doctor pursed his lips and gathered his thoughts. “I don’t understand how you are functioning. In all my years, I have never seen anyone as sick as you are without having them flat out on their back in a hospital. You are a naturally strong person. I think it has given you an advantage.”
“What do I have, Doc?”
“You have two issues, both of which are dire. One is hypogammaglobulinemia, very serious, Dan. It’s a serious weakening of the immune system, and I have never seen an immune system as devastated as yours, except maybe in an AIDS patient. I tested you for HIV; the results were negative. Your other problem is histoplasmosis.” Dr. Cohen looked at Dan, waiting for questions.
“What does all this mean . . . and why did you ask about spelunking? I don’t go into caves. Is it possible this is related to my military service?”
“Well, histoplasmosis is caused by a fungus in bat and bird droppings. Let’s deal with this first. Climbing in caves in the Ohio River Valley is a major source, but it could also be from being in an old barn or shed. With a good healthy immune system, a person will normally suffer effects like those of a cold. However, with a compromised immune system this type of infection is deadly. Have you thought of any place you have been where there might have been bat guano?”
“I was thinking about it last night. Closest thing would be when I cleaned out an old garage; it had a lot of debris from bats and birds—but I did it months ago.”
“Say three to six months ago?”
“Yeah, about right.”
“How long have you been coughing and feeling sick?”
“About two months or so.”
“So, would you say you started to get sick maybe three or four weeks after you cleaned out the garage?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“The perfect incubation period. Dan, with your hypogammaglobulinemia I have to be honest with you . . .”
“Go ahead.”
Dr. Cohen adjusted his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Nothing is certain. Your case has me baffled. There is a possibility you have, in fact, a rare and powerful immune system. Even though it is beaten down so much, you still have been able to maintain relative health. The fact you can drive here and walk into my office says there is something going on we don’t quite understand. Based on all the tests, you are dying. Based on the tests, I would say you might have five years. It’s what the data tells me. Looking at you tells me there’s something more to it than the data.” He paused, giving Dan time to let it all sink in. “I’m going to give you an inhaler to help you breathe and ease your cough.”
“What caused this hypo gamma mess?”
“Hypogammaglobulinemia.”
“Isn’t there anything you can do to get rid of this? Five years?” Dan felt faint; this was surreal. No, this wasn’t what he expected. He expected bad news but not this.
“I’m sorry, Dan, but it’s what the test results show. As far as what caused it, your immune deficiency could have been something you were born with. Then again, it could have been caused by your body being saturated with fungus or molds. As far as your military service, I would like you to think about it. Were you ever overexposed to radiation or involved with chemical weapons? You know the military—they may not have even told you. Make a list of where you’ve been stationed. The treatments I can do might not be wise at this point.” Dr. Cohen spoke in a compassionate tone.
“You’re not going to treat me? Well, I’m going to do my own research on this. I will look into my military duty stations. Offhand I can’t think of any hazards, but you never know, like you said.”
“Good idea. I like my patients to be involved. We need to be a team, Dan. I can’t cure you. I can help you cure yourself. I’m going to do more research. Listen, with your permission and understanding I would like to start trending your condition. I want you to come in every week for blood tests. I would like to know your lifestyle. Keep a journal for me. I’m going to recommend a diet for you, with lots of natural, organic fruits and vegetables, along with oregano to battle fungus and infection. I’ll print it out for you. You can get it from my receptionist. Keep track of everything you are eating and drinking. The treatments we can offer have extreme side effects. My plan is to hold off on those unless your condition deteriorates. It’s your call, though.”
“I’m eating lots of stuff for my immune system already, like onions, garlic, and mushrooms. I started researching it for myself a while back. I eat blueberries every day. Did you ever hear of noni juice? Well, I’m drinking it.”
“Be careful, some of the claims made, like those made by noni juice producers, aren’t documented. Noni won’t hurt you, I just don’t know if it will help. But as well as you are doing, I don’t think we should panic. I’m afraid the treatments I can offer would be devastating. They could interfere with your natural recovery. If you start to fail, we can always hospitalize you. Do you agree? If not, I can have you admitted and we can start treatment today.”
“No, I agree. Let’s see how I do. I can’t be hospitalized right now. I have a lot on my plate. I’m not even sure I have a job anymore.”
“Dan, there should be one thing on your plate right now, your health. I’m sorry to be the one telling you this. Your situation is almost one hundred percent fatal. It’s just a matter of time. I’ll do all I can for you, but I would like to see how you do on your own. I’ll give you something to mask the symptoms and make you more comfortable. Albuterol is an inhalant, it will help you breathe easier. You went to a neurologist about your vision, didn’t you?”
“Yes, he said he thought it was an optic migraine.”
“I would like to contact him. Could you leave his name out at the desk when you leave?”
“Yes, of course. Do you think my eye problem is related to this?”
“Yes, I’m afraid vision issues are a symptom. It may have been an optic migraine, maybe not. Let’s just cover all the bases.”
Dr. Cohen showed Dan how to use the inhaler. Then he went into greater depth about the effects on the body of the two ailments and warning signs to watch for. Five years kept ringing in Dan’s head. In five years, how old would the boys be and how much quality of living would he have over those years? Dan tried to listen to the doctor, but he kept drifting off.
“Can you give me any other insights as to how you are managing your health other than diet?”
“Julie . . .” Dan stopped talking.
“Who is Julie?”
“Julie’s my wife, she prays for me. She seems to always get what she prays for.”
“Right . . . well, you tell her to keep praying; it just might be what’s keeping you going. I’ve been a doctor for thirty years, and believe me, I have seen miracles. I’ve seen people pray, I mean really pray, and things have occurred I can’t explain. Rest is important also; get lots of sleep. Avoid stress. Don’t worry about your job.” Dr. Cohen chewed on his pen.
On his way toward Stony Grove Dan mulled over everything Dr. Cohen had said. He also flashed back to his days in the military, searching for a possible answer. Nothing came to him. About three miles before Stony Grove, knowing Julie would not be out of class yet, Dan turned down the road leading to the bait store and Lee McDaniels. He was in no mood to be blown off by Lee. He wanted answers, answers to everything. He felt cursed and haunted. He wanted to know by whom. He felt a cough coming on and took a snort of the inhaler.
Lee sat on the front porch whittling and rocking. Dan slowed so as not to stir up any dust in the parking lot.
“Hi, Lee. How are things going? How’s the missus?”
“Hi, Dan, everything is good. Missus was having an up day when I left her.”
Dan stepped onto the porch, scratching Buck behind his ear, then dropped into the rocking chair next to Lee.
“Did you hear anything from them doctors you been seein’?”
Dan thought long and hard about how best to respond in order to get Lee to talk about things. Dan hadn’t confided in anyone yet, so he wondered if it was proper to tell Lee before his own family. Julie and Dan had both witnessed several deaths over the course of their military careers. The prospects he now faced were more personal, but still his battle experiences had left him jaded about his own mortality. Julie wouldn’t see it the same way. He didn’t know the best way to break the news to her.
“I’ve just come from a specialist, an immunologist.” Dan pondered another minute and decided just to let things rip. “I’m a dead man, Lee. The doctor thinks I have five years at most. He said I’m the sickest man he’s ever seen not in a hospital.”
“Do tell. You ain’t contagious, are you?” Lee stopped whittling but continued to look at his piece of wood.
“No, I’m not contagious. I have a lung infection, an all-over infection—but my body isn’t up to fighting it. I’m not sure what to tell my family. You’re the first one I’ve told.”
“Too bad, seems everything is dying lately.” Lee looked sincerely grieved.
“Lee, I want you to know, Val Wentreck and Fred Black are making my last days miserable. Do these guys mean anything to you? I know you don’t like talking, but can you give me any insights into either of them or both?”
Lee drew back his knife and tossed it in the direction of the porch post in front of him; it hit hard, sticking solidly into the oak.
“They ain’t no friends of mine. They are the worst of the worst. I warned you, you didn’t make any friends when you bought the house. I told you to sell and run. Now you want me to spill my guts and make myself a target?”
“I hate to tell you this, but you’re an old man. You don’t have much time left either. We’re both in the same boat. You said your wife is dying. What are you afraid of, Lee?”
Lee didn’t respond for quite some time, and Dan refrained from saying anything more. When Lee spoke, he stared at the floor.
“I guess I’ve been a coward all my life. I guess it’s why I play the hillbilly. It’s what you’re getting at, isn’t it? You’re trying to tell me for once in my life to show some courage.”
“Lee, I don’t know if I’m saying all of that, but I guess what I am saying is causing you to think it. So, yes—I guess I am.”
Lee stood up, struggling to pull his knife out of the oak post.
