Deep in the Darkness by Michael Laimo Read Free Book Online

of the day waning, and all the while I listened to Christine's shallow breaths and the occasional grind of her teeth. Still, sleep seemed as far away as my life in Manhattan, and I propped myself up on my elbows and peered out the window facing the woods in the backyard. In the full moon's light, I could see the birdbath, the shed at the perimeter of the woods, and then the woods themselves that pitched up slightly and disappeared in the distance, even at this height.
    All was quiet. Too quiet.
    Deep in the darkness of the woods, I saw a second brief flash of golden light. And then, like the first, it was gone.
    A half hour later, while I still lie awake in bed, I thought, Fireflies don't come out until July.

8
     
    T he next three weeks were an anticipated transitional period for us, but proved to be busier than we ever expected. I ended up opening my practice to the public one week after moving in. It was a choice by default. I hadn't planned on ramping things up so quickly, but as soon as the phones were hooked up they began an eternal serenade of tolls and in twenty-four hours I had a tapeful of messages from Dr. Farris's old patients (my new patients) seeking checkups and appointments, all for non life-threatening issues. Through my perusal of their records, and the general lighthearted conversations that took place during their stopovers, I realized that these people simply wanted to be the first ones to initiate some chatter with new doctor in town. It was all part of the small-town directive. She who plants the grapevine grows the most acquaintances. And while I played mayor, Christine assumed command of the household.
    Jessica was having a grand old time exploring the nooks and crannies of the house, and even helped Christine choring about with an enthusiasm that'd remained previously dormant. She'd do the job that was asked of her as long as it incorporated a conversation pertaining to all the fun activities she'd soon encounter in kindergarten, plus, as Christine so duly illustrated, how she'd be the smartest kid in class because all her roots were planted in city soil. I frowned upon this type of work-load bribery despite the fact that it served its purpose quite well, and hoped that Christine's ego-boosting commendation would fade from Jessica's mind before September arrived.
    I'd had lunch with Phillip a couple more times, and soon enough I was formally introduced to Rosy Deighton. As it turned out, she didn't remember our encounter in the bedroom, although I still had my suspicions as to whether there might have been some ulterior motive that day on the part of her husband. Looking at her was still unsympathetic on the stomach (she even joined us for lunch one afternoon—I'll spare the details), but she seemed a rather pleasant lady who did her best to keep up a good attitude despite the fact that the golden years of her life had been pretty much wiped out.
    Curious as to her condition and certain that cancer hadn't been the culprit, I'd spent many hours searching Neil Farris's files for Rosy Deighton's medical record, but found nothing. I'd never met Farris, and knew very little about him before I assumed his life here in Ashborough. But what I'd learned was that he was a very detail-oriented man. His files were immaculately kept, alphabetized by last name, and categorized by condition. There were fourteen people suffering from cancer in Ashborough (at least those of whom came to Farris for support), and Rosy Deighton wasn't one of them. Actually, according to the records left behind for me, Rosy hadn't even been a patient.
    I never told Phillip that I couldn't locate Rosy's file—I felt this bit of information was something he didn't need to know about; last thing I needed was the necessity to unearth it under his watchful eyes, wherever the hell it was. I ended up examining her (another choice by default) during my lunch-breaks and prescribed her a mild anti-anxiety medication in addition to the