Read Online Nervous Water by William G. Tapply - Free Book Online

that. Figure he’s probably in the bathroom. But when I call again fifteen minutes later, he still don’t answer. Now I’m worried. He knows I’m going to call. We been doing it for years, and he always answers. So I go over to his house. That was our deal. If one of us don’t answer the phone, it means something’s wrong. When I get there I find him sprawled out on the floor wearin’ his pajamas and lookin’ pretty much like a goner. All grayish and still and clammy, breathing so soft and slow you can’t see his chest move. So I call that 911 number, and the ambulance comes, and they work on him for a while, and then they take him off to the hospital with their sirens screaming, and when I get my wits about me, I remember how just yesterday he was talkin’ about you, how you’re helpin’ him out with Cassie and all, and I didn’t know who else to tell, but I figured somebody ought to know—family, I mean—so I looked up your number in his book, and here I am, tellin’ you about it.”
    Helen Meadows paused. We both needed to catch a breath. “Moze,” she said after a minute, “he can be terrible crabby sometimes, but he’s a dear old bugger, and I don’t know what I’d do if I lost him.” She cleared her throat, and I guessed she was crying. “Anyways, I figured you’d want to know. You being family and all. Moze thinks the world of you, you know.”
    â€œI think the world of him, too,” I said. “So where is he?”
    â€œPardon?”
    â€œWhat hospital?”
    â€œMaine Medical, up to Portland. Don’t know why they took him there. The Portsmouth hospital’s closer, but that’s what they did.”
    Portland was a little under two hours from Beacon Hill, if the traffic was light. “So,” I said, “how are you doing, Helen?”
    â€œMe?” She hesitated. “I’m doin’ how you’d expect, I s’pose, thank you kindly for asking. I’m scared, is how I’m doing. I tried calling the hospital, but they won’t tell me nothing.” She sighed. “You get old, you start losing your friends. Moze is my best friend. I don’t want to lose him. It’d be awful lonely around here without him, I’ll tell you that.”
    â€œI’ll check up on him, find out how he’s doing,” I said. “Why don’t you give me your number and I’ll keep you posted.”
    â€œGod bless you.”
    She recited a phone number, which I wrote down.
    After I hung up with Helen Meadows, I called information and got the main number for the Maine Medical Center in Portland. I called it, asked to be connected to the emergency room, which I eventually was, and they redirected me to intensive care. I said I was calling for information on a recently admitted patient, Moses Crandall, who was my uncle, and an apologetic-sounding woman told me they weren’t allowed to give out patient information over the telephone.
    â€œCan you at least tell me if Mr. Crandall is still alive?” I said.
    â€œYou’re his nephew, you say?”
    â€œThat’s right. Also his lawyer.”
    â€œLawyer, eh?” She chuckled. “Okay. I’m scared.”
    â€œI didn’t mean anything like that,” I said.
    â€œOh, I guess you probably did.” She hesitated. “All I can tell you, sir, lawyer or nephew or president of the United States, is that Mr. Crandall is here in intensive care.”
    â€œHe is alive, then.”
    â€œI can’t tell you anything else,” she said. “Hospital policy. Sue us. You won’t be the first one.” She hesitated. “It may interest you to know, however, that it’s against regulations to store dead bodies in the intensive care unit.”
    I smiled. “Thank you. We’ll have to see about that lawsuit. Can I visit him?”
    â€œOnly