Emergency in Alaska Page 6

  “Who you think is in Elkhorn?” It was the largest town in these parts and she knew everyone there, but she couldn’t think of a single man who would be taking advantage of a vulnerable widow. Not a single, solitary man. “And you’re sure it’s Elkhorn, because I know everybody there and I can’t think of anybody who would do such a thing to her.”

  “Oh, it’s Elkhorn. Through a modern invention called e-mail, I know she’s in Elkhorn, living with some bastard called Dimitri Romonov. He’s a doctor, she’s a doctor…Since you’re a doctor from these parts, too, do you know him?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “DO I know him?” Alek sputtered, so shocked she could barely get his name out. “You are joking with me, aren’t you? I work with Dimitri. I work at the Romonov Clinic, and when I return, apparently I’ll be working with your mother if she’s the woman I think Dimitri has with him.” How could it be anyone else? Doctor Morse. Just not Dr. Michael Morse.

  “I rarely joke when it comes to my mother’s goodwill being compromised. Which is what this Dimitri Romonov is doing. Taking advantage of her while she’s still in mourning for my father. Trust me, it’s not a joke.”

  This was so unreal, this accusation against Dimitri, she couldn’t yet find the words to come to his defense. “Meaning what?” she snarled.

  “Meaning, I’m going to contact the Alaska medical authorities and have them look into his licensing.”

  “You’re what?”

  “The guy’s running a quack clinic, but you know that if you’re working for him.”

  “Not for him, Michael. With him. Which makes me not only an inept physician but a quack as well. I know how you define inept, so tell me how you define quack?” she snapped, fighting to hold her temper. She didn’t want this to erode until she had all the ammunition she’d need for the real fight.

  “Pneumonia jacket and an asafetida bag, for starters. That’s quackery in any modern medical text, and my mother’s getting herself involved in it.”

  Alek bit her lip, not sure if she wanted to laugh or yell. This was so absurd. A pneumonia jacket was a traditional cure from nearly a century ago, when there had been no real treatment for lung disease. It was a basic, heavy cotton vest placed on a patient, then every day an inch was cut away. In theory, when the vest was gone, so was the pneumonia. It worked if the patient was likely to be cured, and the simple fact was that most people did survive pneumonia. So the pneumonia jacket was looked upon as a miracle. And, yes, as a placebo. They did still use it in the clinic for certain people who adhered to the very old ways. An ancient pneumonia jacket, along with some very modern drugs.

  As for the asafetida—that was a bit too gummy, and getting those Asian plants to Alaska for the purpose of curing lung spasms was a hefty challenge, especially when a prescribed pill was easier. Although she and Dimitri did like eucalyptus. Of course, Michael would consider that quackery, too.

  “And you have a problem with quackery—you who pulled a tooth using whiskey as a painkiller?”

  “Okay, so that wasn’t orthodox. I’ll admit it. But she’s practicing without the benefit of the modern conveniences she’s used to, which could open her up to a medical-malpractice lawsuit.”

  “If the people up here were inclined to sue, which they’re not. And you treated a whole town without the benefit of the modern conveniences you’re used to.”

  “Different circumstances. You can’t construe a one-time situation to be anything like a full-time profession. Besides, he’s not paying her. Not one blessed penny.”

  “She told you that?”

  He nodded. “It’s all volunteer.”

  “People do it all the time. Altruistic doctors do it all the time. Ever hear of Doctors Without Borders? Ever been to a free clinic in the inner city? We’re not all mercenary, Michael. We don’t all get a thousand dollars every time we utter a professional opinion, and maybe your mother simply decided it was time to find a new way. But there’s really no point in arguing this with you, is there, since I’m an inept, quack doctor who finds it as easy to kill a patient as cure one, further proving my horrible medical judgment?”

  “What the hell?” he exclaimed.

  “What the hell is, you’re wrong about Dimitri, and about what we do at the clinic. And I swear, if you go to Elkhorn and make trouble for him, I’ll—”

  “What?” he interrupted. “Threaten me with your police powers? Look, Alek, my mother spent an entire year being depressed and, God knows, I did everything to help her and couldn’t. Then one day, out of the blue, I get an e-mail telling me that her whole life is changed now. An e-mail, not even a phone call. What am I supposed to think?”

  “That, perhaps, her whole life is changed. Maybe she’s happy again.”

  “Changed so much she won’t talk to me, won’t return calls, won’t even return e-mails, except to say that all’s well?”

  “With your attitude, I can’t say that I blame her. You make harsh judgments, Michael. Harsh and hurtful, and you don’t look to see who you’re hurting.” She drew in a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves so this argument wouldn’t degrade into something personal, since it did involve Dimitri so deeply. “Just leave them alone. Okay? Let them work out whatever it is they’re doing—working, having a relationship, both—because in the end, it’s none of your business.”

  “You can defend your Dimitri all you want, but can you tell me why my mother has drawn nearly a hundred thousand dollars out of her bank account as a check made out to him?”

  Alek blinked back her astonishment. Dimitri never took charity or handouts for any reason. Not ever. If a patient wanted to pay a bill, he accepted what he was owed, and only that. And often he didn’t even accept that much. But if someone wanted to contribute more, wanted to make a contribution of any kind to the clinic, Dimitri turned it down flatly, without exception. “Do you know that for a fact, that she gave him that much money?”

  Michael pulled his backpack over to him, unzipped the outside compartment and pulled out a sheet of paper. “This is what I know for a fact,” he said, handing it over to Alek.

  She took a quick look and sucked in a sharp breath. Yes, it was a photocopy of a check and, yes, Dimitri’s name was on it as the recipient. But that didn’t necessarily mean anything. It couldn’t! “Which proves nothing,” she said, shoving the paper back to Michael.

  “It proves everything.”

  Alek took a firm grip on her coffee mug, willing herself not to throw it at him. “Dimitri wouldn’t accept charity from anybody. And you’d better learn the facts before you make any more accusations, because walking to Elkhorn in the snow won’t be pleasant, and in case you haven’t figured it out by now, you’re on the verge of a very long, cold walk.”

  Without another word Alek got up and marched over to her bed in the corner. If there had been any feasible way to get him out of this cabin right now, she would have. But by now the village was rolled up and tucked in and, barring an emergency, no one would be awake to take Michael in for the night. And as much as she despised the man, she wouldn’t put him out in the cold, which was what he deserved.

  “You defending Romonov still doesn’t change the fact that he has a large chunk of my mother’s money in his bank account. Blind loyalty is admirable, but not always wise, Alek.”

  “Neither are you, Michael!” she snapped.

  Michael threw his hands into the air in mock surrender. “Hey, lady. All I want is gasoline. Okay? That’s the only thing I’ve asked of you, and that’s all I’m expecting from you. Granted, I’ve offended you in the past, and if I remembered you I might recall what I did to deserve this. Or not deserve this. But since I don’t, you’d call any attempt at an apology I might make insincere or hypocritical, so I’ll spare you the effort. I’ve done a great many things in my life for which I’ve offered a great many apologies, but I will never apologize for protecting my mother, and if that means involving your medical partner, so be it. I’ll do what I have to do.”

&nbs
p; There were so many more things she wanted to say, but he simply wasn’t worth the breath it took to continue the argument, because people like Michael Morse didn’t listen, and they didn’t change. To think she might have been attracted to him once astounded her. “Stay on that side of the cabin, Doctor. And I’m warning you, don’t you dare say another word against Dimitri or you’re going to be sleeping out in the cold.” And she meant it…probably.

  Plopping down on the bed, Alek turned her back to Michael and pulled the wool blanket up all the way over her shoulders. Promise or not, come morning she wasn’t going to lead him to Elkhorn like the Pied Piper leading the rats. Get him his gas, give him directions, and he was on his own, because the sooner he got to Elkhorn, the sooner he would start to cause problems. And while she couldn’t stop the inevitable from happening, maybe she could postpone it long enough that he might have second thoughts. Give him a good little delay here in Beaver Dam before he set off for Elkhorn. Good plan, although it probably wouldn’t work.

  Across the room, which was only a good ten paces away, Michael chuckled. An annoying chuckle. One that grated all the way up her spine. “What?” she snarled.

  “Just trying to imagine you in bed. With that attitude, I’ll bet you keep it mighty hot under the sheets on these long, cold Alaskan nights.”

  He’d watched her fidget for a good ten minutes now. She was itching to fight with him again—come out swinging one more time to defend her friend, Dimitri. She’d been twisting and turning and huffing out over-exaggerated sighs. “Is there something else you wanted to say to me?” he asked, knowing she had plenty on her mind. But he couldn’t help provoking her. She was so cute when she was provoked. “Another fight, perhaps? Maybe an accusation? An opinion, a denial, a good round of name-calling?”

  “Would you shut up?” Alek snapped, her face still turned to the wall. “I’m trying to sleep.”

  “And I can hear you. No wonder you’re still awake. It’s pretty noisy in your half of the room.” But he was mildly entertained by her annoyance. Normally, women fawned over him. He wasn’t sure why, and he’d never complained. His looks were okay, not great, not horrible. His personality was good enough, not flamboyant, not flat. He worked in a hospital, not a private practice, so he wasn’t wealthy by a long shot. But when it came to women, he’d been lucky. Probably luckier than he deserved since not a one of them had ever struck his fancy in any way.

  Of course, that was all in the past. A good year behind him now, and counting forward. Honestly, by the time he’d hit thirty, he had been tired of the life, tired of dating, tired of hooking up, tired of all the old habits. Work all day, play all night—it wore him down, especially when what he wanted wasn’t there. He couldn’t even define what that was. Defining what he didn’t want was much easier. Pretty much, he didn’t want anything he’d had, the things that had caused him so many problems in the end, problems that had nearly unraveled his whole life. Ambition to be more, even when he didn’t know what more was, became a deadly intoxicant.

  So now he went home to a cup of hot tea at night, then settled in. Boring, but safe. But that was fine. And sometimes, when the lonely hours hit, he simply worked more to overcome them.

  He suspected Aleksandra Sokolov would never believe that of him. Somehow she fancied him to be the troll under the bridge, always ready to extract something from someone, and that was before she’d known he was here to fetch his mother. “When, exactly, did you take my class?”

  “Three years ago, summer course.”

  Which did make some sense now. He cringed over the bad memory. “So maybe I do owe you an apology at that. I wasn’t at my best that summer. Had some personal problems.” A mild understatement. It was more like that had been the beginning of his major upheaval.

  “Not at your best?” she sputtered. “Is that what you call it?”

  “We all have bad times.”

  “We certainly do, and I’m having one of those right now. And the apology’s not worth anything, Dr. Morse. Not coming from you. So I’d thank you to shut up and let me sleep, now.”

  It was the fifth knock on the door and wearily, Alek concluded that whoever was outside wasn’t going away. She also concluded that Michael wasn’t going to answer. Resigned to losing the rest of her night’s sleep, Alek rolled out of bed, took a look at Michael—who was either sleeping so soundly he hadn’t heard the faint tapping or was the best faker she’d ever seen—and trudged to the door, dreading to open it to the outside elements. She didn’t mind snow, didn’t even hate the cold, but she loathed being called out into it in the middle of the night. It was part of the job, but there was no requirement that she should like this aspect.

  “Hello, Dr. Alek,” she heard a tiny voice call from outside.

  Immediately she pulled open the door, to find a young girl standing there. She was bundled in a heavy parka with a wool scarf pulled up around her face, and only her worried eyes were visible. “Noora?” Noora Eyinck lived outside town, about two kilometers away. In the middle of the night, in the snow, it couldn’t have been an easy walk for the waif, and already Alek was alarmed to find her here.

  “Mama is sick tonight,” she said, standing her ground on the threshold even as Alek stepped aside to let her in. “She doesn’t want you coming, but she’s got the bellyache awful and she’s not breathing so well.”

  “How long has she had the bellyache?” Alek asked.

  “Since supper. She said it will go away, and my grandma’s there to help her get better. But when it comes on her she sounds like it hurts so bad.”

  “Do you know her?” Michael asked Alek, having woken up. “Does she have an ulcer or reflux disease?”

  “Not that I know of. She gets her immunizations, makes sure her family is updated in their health care, but that’s it. No medical history that I recall.”

  “Beaver stew,” Michael said. “Delayed onset. Rare, but it can happen.” He looked at the girl. “Did she eat Ben Smiling’s stew?”

  Noora shook her head adamantly. “We didn’t go this year. Mama was tired, and Papa is away fishing.”

  “So I make a house call,” Alek said, holding out her hand to Noora as the child stepped into the house. “Does she know you’re here?” Alek asked her. She was betting Mrs. Eyinck didn’t know. The Yup’ik were very close-knit and protective of their families. A child Noora’s age, nine, would never be allowed out of the house to wander around on her own in the middle of the night.

  “No, ma’am. My grandma was tending to her when I left. I heard you came here for everybody else that was sick like my mama is, so I thought you should come and give her some medicine, too.” She walked straight over to the fire to warm her hands. “My mama says that tomorrow when she’s all better, I’ll have a new brother or sister to play with, which is why I came to get you. I’ve never had a brother or sister before, and I want her to get better so I can have one.”

  Alek and Michael shot each other a surprised look. “She’s pregnant?” he asked, grabbing up Alek’s rucksack full of medicines, then stepping into his fur boots and pulling on his parka.

  Shrugging, Alek responded, “They don’t always come to us for such things. Poisoned beaver stew, yes. Childbirth, no.” She shrugged on her own parka, then pulled her Cossack cap over her head and tucked her hair up under it. “And under the bulky clothes they wear, sometimes I can look straight at them and not even realize they’re nine months along and on the verge of giving birth.” She yanked her rucksack away from him, then snatched up her medical bag. “So can you drive in the snow, city boy?”

  “We have snow in Seattle,” he said. “It’s not only an Alaskan commodity.”

  She tossed him the keys to her Jeep. “Then prove yourself, Doctor. Just watch out for the bears. They don’t take too kindly to being rousted in the middle of the night by a city driver.”

  Noora giggled. “We don’t have bears here,” she said, following Alek through the door. “They’re out in the woods, silly, and hardly
ever come to the village.”

  Alek turned around to her, then bent down. “But the city boy doesn’t know that, and we don’t want him to,” she whispered.

  Noora looked up, wide-eyed, at Michael, then giggled. “We have big bears, city boy.” She spread her arms wide to show him how big. “Like that. With big teeth.”

  “In that case, maybe you should be the one to drive.” He tossed Noora the keys, then scrambled off the porch, plowing through the snow until he got to the Jeep. By the time Alek made it over with Noora, Michael was sprawled out in the back, his feet casually across the seat and his arms folded casually over his chest. “You can drive, can’t you, Noora?” he asked. “Oh, and try not to hit too many bumps, or go off the road into a ditch like Dr. Alek did today.”

  “No,” Noora squealed. “I’m too young to drive. Except Papa does let me drive the snow machine sometimes.” She threw the keys back to Michael. “So you have to drive.”

  “You expect me to drive through all those bears?” He shook his head. “That’s not a good idea. I might actually drive right into one this big.” He extended his arms to show Noora that his bear was bigger than hers. “I think I’d be safer back here, and let the bear get you.” He tossed the keys back to her.

  Noora scrambled right into the back of the Jeep, landing in Michael’s lap. “And I’ll let the bear get you, city boy.” She giggled.

  “But if the bear gets me and you’re in the back with me, doesn’t that mean the bear will get you, too?” Noora and Michael both turned their heads at precisely the same time and looked at Alek, who was arranging her supplies on the passenger seat next to the driver’s. “Looks like you’re driving,” he said as he took the keys from Noora and tossed them at Alek. “It’s unanimous. You’re driving and we’re hiding. Just watch out for the bears.”

  The ride was short, and filled with laughs and giggles all the way. Alek was tempted to look back and see what all the fun was about, but the road was tricky—not so deep with snow, but there were drifts to avoid. And while her help in this childbirth was unsolicited, and most likely unneeded, she did want to get there in the event something went wrong.