Chapter 5 - THE MORNING THEY TRIED TO ERASE ME
"Final dose?"
My voice barely rose above a whisper.
Dr. Price reached for the clipboard again.
Claire held it against her chest.
"You're going to explain what that means."
"It refers to his routine medication."
"Then why is it written on a certificate dated tomorrow?"
The doctor glanced toward Rebecca.
That one movement told me more than his answer ever could.
"Gabriel needs rest," Rebecca said.
Claire turned on her.
"Your husband is being poisoned, and you're discussing rest?"
"Lower your voice."
"No."
Rebecca's face flushed.
"You're in my home."
"And he's my brother."
I lay there watching two women who had once celebrated Christmas together stand on opposite sides of my bed.
The room suddenly seemed terribly small.
"Everyone out," I said.
Nobody moved.
"I said everyone except Claire."
Dr. Price straightened his jacket.
"I'm afraid I can't authorize that."
I stared at him.
"Authorize?"
"Your condition requires supervision."
"You're not my guardian."
"At present, your decision-making capacity is questionable."
He reached into his medical bag.
Claire immediately stepped between us.
"Don't touch him."
For the first time, Dr. Price lost his professional smile.
"Miss Vance, interfering with medical treatment can have consequences."
"So can falsifying medical records."
Rebecca stepped closer.
"Claire, please. You're making everything worse."
My sister looked at her.
"Then help us get him to a hospital."
Silence.
It lasted only a few seconds.
But it answered everything.
Rebecca wasn't going to help.
Claire leaned toward me.
"Gabriel, do you want emergency medical care?"
"Yes."
"Do you consent to being transported?"
"Yes."
She nodded.
"Good."
Then she walked toward the dressing room.
Dr. Price followed.
"Where are you going?"
"To find a telephone."
Rebecca hurried after her.
"Claire, stop."
But the house was large, and my sister had grown up in a family where people knew how to stand their ground.
By the time Rebecca reached the dressing room, Claire was already halfway down the service corridor.
I heard raised voices.
Then something shattered.
A second later, Ophelia appeared in my doorway.
She looked frightened.
"Sir, are you all right?"
I almost laughed.
It was an absurd question.
"Ophelia, where's Leo?"
"With his mother."
"Keep them together."
She nodded.
Then she glanced at the brass clock on the fireplace.
"I need to turn that off."
"Don't destroy it. The recordings could prove what happened."
Ophelia approached the clock, unplugged its power cord, and placed it face down in a drawer.
"I'll make sure nobody takes it," she whispered.
I looked at her.
"Why are you helping me now?"
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
"Because this morning, Mr. Whitcomb told me Laura's little boy had seen too much."
My heart began pounding.
"What exactly did he say?"
"He said children who invent stories need to be removed from situations where they can cause trouble."
"Where's Leo?"
"In the staff cottage. Laura locked the door before she came inside."
"Get him somewhere safe."
Ophelia hesitated.
"Mr. Vance, Nora's hospital account—"
"I'll make sure your daughter receives proper care. Independently. Without Daniel or Rebecca controlling it."
Her shoulders shook.
"I should have told you."
"Yes," I said. "You should have."
I wasn't ready to forgive her.
But I could still refuse to let another innocent person suffer.
Outside, a man's voice echoed through the hallway.
"Mrs. Vance, where is the patient?"
Paramedics.
Claire had reached Laura, and Laura had used the old telephone in the service office to call 911.
Rebecca appeared beside the emergency crew.
"There's been a misunderstanding," she said. "My husband is under the care of a private physician."
One paramedic, a woman in her forties, approached my bed.
"Mr. Vance, my name is Karen. Can you tell me what happened?"
"My wife has been giving me medication I didn't authorize."
Rebecca gasped.
"Gabriel!"
I continued.
"I believe it's making me sick. I want to go to the hospital."
Karen looked directly at me.
"Do you understand where you are?"
"My home."
"Do you know what day it is?"
"Saturday."
"Do you want us to take you for evaluation?"
"Immediately."
She nodded to her partner.
"We're transporting him."
Dr. Price stepped forward.
"I strongly advise against moving this patient."
Karen glanced at him.
"Are you his attending physician?"
"Yes."
"Then you can provide his medical history. He's conscious, and he's requesting transport."
For the first time in eighteen days, someone treated me like a man who still owned his own voice.
As the paramedics prepared the stretcher, Laura appeared carrying Leo.
The little boy wore a red jacket over his pajamas.
His eyes widened when he saw me.
"Mr. Gabe?"
I tried to smile.
"Hey, buddy."
"Are you going away?"
"Just to the hospital."
He looked worried.
"Are you coming back?"
I swallowed.
"I'm going to try very hard."
Leo reached into his pocket.
He held out a folded drawing.
It showed our mansion, a yellow sun, and three people standing beside a blue car.
One was tall.
One had long hair.
The smallest wore a red jacket.
"That's us," he said.
I took the drawing.
"Who's driving?"
"Mommy."
"Where are we going?"
He thought for a moment.
"Somewhere good."
I pressed the paper against my chest.
"That sounds nice."
Laura wiped her eyes.
Claire took my hand as the paramedics wheeled me toward the elevator.
Behind us, Rebecca stood motionless.
I searched her face for something familiar.
The woman who had once held our daughter.
The woman who knew the words to every old country song I loved.
The woman who promised to grow old with me.
She didn't look angry anymore.
She looked defeated.
Just before the elevator doors closed, she whispered, "Gabriel, you don't understand what happens if you leave."
I looked at her.
"Then maybe you should have told me the truth."
The ambulance ride seemed endless.
Karen checked my blood pressure repeatedly.
My heart was racing, and bruises had appeared along my arms.
When she asked about my medications, I told her about the white pills and Laura's laboratory report.
She listened carefully.
Then she opened the medical information packet Dr. Price had handed her.
I watched her expression change.
"Mr. Vance, I need to clarify something."
"What?"
"There's an advance medical directive here."
I closed my eyes.
"Of course there is."
"It states that you declined certain emergency life-saving interventions."
"I never signed that."
She showed me the page.
The signature was mine.
Another perfect forgery.
But this document contained something the others hadn't.
A witness.
Karen pointed toward the bottom.
I recognized the name immediately.
Claire Vance.
My sister.
The woman who had just risked everything to save me.
My throat tightened.
May you like
Then Karen asked a question that made the entire ambulance fall silent.
"Mr. Vance, why would your sister sign a document refusing treatment for you three weeks before you became sick?"
