Unclean Spirit Read Free Page B

"Yes, yes, of course! Tell me!"
                  "Corporal Peter Rosenfeld, Social Security Number 454-22-7..."
                  "Yes, damn it! Tell me!"
                  "Mrs. Rosenfeld, your husband has been located and transported to a MASH for emergency care. His leg is badly injured and his condition is critical. At this point, that's the extent of my information."
     
                  "Mrs. Forsythe?"
                  Tamara's sojourn into the past was interrupted by a nurse in green scrubs.
                  "Yes, what is it? Is Paul all right?"
                  "So far, so good. He's still in surgery, but Dr. Gomez asked me to let you know that it's going to take a bit longer than expected. Your husband is stable now but he had a brief episode of difficulty."
                  "What kind of 'difficulty'?"
                  "We're not sure why it happened, there was no warning, but Mr. Forsythe's heart stopped for a full five seconds then spontaneously started up again in normal rhythm. Dr. Gomez wanted me to verify what you told him earlier about Mr. Forsythe's medical history."
                  "It's true I was upset when Dr. Gomez initially questioned me, so I appreciate that he wants to follow-up. But what I told him is accurate; Paul has never had any significant medical problems.
                  "Is Paul going to be okay?"
                  "Mrs. Forsythe, that's not a question I can answer. I will say, however, that his vital signs are perfectly normal now and Dr. Gomez is one of the best neurosurgeons I have ever worked with. If anyone can bring your husband through this he can."
                  Sweet Jesus! thought Tamara. What the hell else can happen?

CHAPTER FIVE
     
     
                  When Starr reached the motel, she was relieved to find that her mom had already checked in. As soon as she entered their room, Starr freed Penelope from her carrier, set up the cat's litter box and food and water, and sat down to smoke a very much needed cigarette. Tamara had left a note for her daughter:
    Starr— I arrived safe and sound. Your dad will be in the Intensive Care Unit, so you will find me there. Don't rush, honey, have some coffee and a decent breakfast. See you soon.
    Love, Mom.
     
     
    The thought of fresh coffee reminded Starr just how exhausted she was, especially after the mellowing effects of the scotch she had downed on the plane. Locating the hospital wouldn't be a problem, so Starr felt that she could afford the time it would take to boot-up  with a few cups of strong java.
                  Starr was familiar with El Paso. After leaving San Francisco in late 1968, she and her parents had migrated to the West Texas town with Marybeth and Patsy. Patsy had been born in El Paso and was anxious, as were they all, to return to a locale that offered the peacefulness that The Haight had lost. The 1967 Summer of Love had actually been the Summer of Debauchery. San Francisco had devolved from a city of ideals into a city of idiots who could not see beyond their own selfish desires. Sex and love had become synonymous; drugs had replaced cognition; violence had triumphed over peace. The symbolic burial of "The Dream" in Buena Vista Park in 1967 wasn't really symbolic at all. Elliot, Ming, and Piper moved across the bay to Sausalito; Candace had left several years earlier to be with Peter in Hawaii, where he had been sent for an above-the-knee amputation; only Paul, Tamara, Starr, Marybeth, and Patsy stayed together.
                  Starr hadn't been thrilled with El Paso. How her family could forsake the trees and flowers and water for the sand and cacti and dry air was beyond her. Furthermore, her nine year-old mind could not comprehend why people didn't live in the city. What was this suburb stuff all about? How did people get around?