Tuesday morning, Paige watched Clarissa make her entrance into the pharmacy. Something about her seemed different today. The bored disinterest that always radiated from her felt forced today. Defiant almost. She walked into the dispensing area, her jaw set.
“There’s something I need to tell you, but I don’t want any lectures or ‘I told you so’s.’ ”
Paige held up the first three fingers of her right hand. “Scouts honor. I’ll leave the lectures to the mothers of this world.”
Clarissa did not smile. “Yeah, well, I’m sure I’ll get plenty of yap from my step-monster.” Her eyes glinted hard and flat.
“What’s the matter?” The news must have been pretty bad for Clarissa to be this serious about it. Paige dropped onto the stool behind her.
“You remember Ms. Feldhouse? The Zebeta lady?”
“Yes.”
“Well, she’s filed a lawsuit.” Clarissa looked toward the ceiling. “I mean, come on. It wasn’t like anything bad happened to her or anything. She’s just out to make a little money.”
Pictures of Atlanta flashed before Paige’s eyes. Things could get worse from here—a lot worse. Clarissa might not see the big picture yet, but she did. “Do they know yet? About Dawn taking the call, I mean?”
Clarissa snorted. “Are you crazy? And I’m not going to tell them.”
“So, you plan to lie?”
Clarissa waved her hand once. “Relax. My father’s lawyer is going to handle it. He’s already started looking into it and said her lawyer is some backwoods loser. We’ll settle it fast so there won’t be a trial or anything—and insurance will cover it. So, it’s an inconvenience.” She ran her fingers through the black silk of her hair. “An inconvenience I don’t want to deal with, but what can I say? There’s a lot I’d rather not deal with.”
“Are you sure? It definitely wouldn’t go to trial?”
“He’ll handle it. We just need to keep our mouths shut about what happened, and it’ll all be over in a quick and painless manner.”
It might be quick, but for Paige it would not be painless. The memories were already awakening in her mind.
Clarissa reached over and took Paige by the arm. “If someone comes around asking questions, you know what you are not going to say, right?”
“I’m not going to lie. You were doing something that you knew was wrong. Something I kept telling you not to do.”
Clarissa pulled her hand away. “So much for scout’s honor about lectures, hmm?” She looked at her fingernails. “Besides, I’d think someone with your past, more than most people, would understand this situation.”
The words slipped like a cold blade between her ribs. She could barely manage to say, “What?”
“Have you forgotten about Mr. Bartlett so soon?”
Paige looked at Clarissa, knowing now without a doubt who had hired the investigator.
“In case you need a reminder, that was the name of the man in Atlanta who had a seizure behind the wheel because he got the wrong strength of his medication. He hit an SUV carrying a mother and her toddler. Ring any bells?” Clarissa crossed her arms and leaned against the counter, victory shining from her eyes.
Breathe. Just breathe. You’ve got to be strong, your parents need you to be strong. “The things that happened in Atlanta . . . They were . . . That was different.”
“You think so? What was so different about it?”
“Those were mistakes, made by people who were working according to the law. What you’re doing is negligence plain and simple.”
Clarissa looked at her fingernails. “I doubt my grandfather would see it that way. Don’t you?”
“It was different,” Paige insisted, trying hard to forget the memories that flooded back.
Paige sat in the committee meeting, looking at Mr. Bartlett’s chart, her heart pounding. What was going on here?
“Would you read for us, please, what the order says?” Dr. Pilcher put his finger above the order in question.
The refill had been written on a call-in form, which would then have been paper clipped to the front of the chart, sent for a doctor’s signature, then sent to the pharmacy to be filled. After the completion of all those steps, the order was permanently attached to the chart.
“It says Phenobarbital 30 mg BID.”
“Yes, 30 mg twice a day. But Jerry Bartlett’s regimen is 100 mg twice a day.”
Paige looked at the words written before her. “Then why is it written as 30 mg?”
The head nurse spoke up. “It seems that when he called in, he asked for 30. In retrospect, what he meant was a thirty-day supply, since that’s what his plan covers.”
Paige tried to blink aside the pictures of Jerry Bartlett’s wrinkled face, his stooped posture, his withered hands. She could still hear his “Thank you very much, young lady” as she handed him his prescription, see him wink as he took it from her hand. That she had handed him a bag filled with what caused his wreck was unthinkable. She rubbed her fingertips with her thumb, as if to erase the stain.
Dr. Pilcher pressed against his forehead again. “What I want to know, Miss Woodward, is why didn’t you catch this?”
“Excuse me?”
“I’ve spoken extensively with our medical error committee,” he said nodding toward the three assembled doctors. Brian did not look at her. “It has been agreed that this should have been stopped by the pharmacy. Would your computer not have flashed a warning that a different dose than normal was being given?”
“Yes, of course. But with a drug like phenobarbital, the doses are often adjusted. I would have seen that and made the assumption that this was being added to his current regimen.”
“It sounds a lot like carelessness to me.”
Paige cast a glance toward Brian, waiting for him to speak up.
He looked down at his hands and remained silent.
Helga pointed at the chart. “Thankfully, Mr. Bartlett’s family has agreed to compensation and complete medical coverage, and they will not file a lawsuit. They just want to make certain that the person responsible for this is held to account.”
Dr. Pilcher nodded his head. “This committee is in agreement that you are that person, Miss Woodward.”
The room seemed to blink shades of light and dark, as if the injustice of it all was too much for even the walls to take. Paige could hear her own pulse beating in time with the flickering shadows.
“As of right now, you may consider yourself on unpaid leave.”
Helga’s voice carried no hint of remorse. “We will give you a week to think it over. If you choose to resign during that week, it will be recorded as a resignation in Human Resources, thus preserving your reference for another job you might apply for. If you choose not to resign, then we may have no other choice but to let you go.”
Paige looked around the room. “But, I only filled the prescription as written. How can you blame me for this?”
“That’s all for now.”
Paige stood and walked through the front room, her legs barely supporting her. This had to be a dream. A nightmare from which she would soon wake. But never did.
“You know my grandfather would fire you in a heartbeat if he knew about your past, don’t you?”
Paige nodded her head. “Clarissa, I need this job.”
“Yes, and I need a lawsuit that is easily settled. If someone comes around asking questions, you keep your mouth shut, and in return, I’ll keep my mouth shut to Granddad. Understand?” The hard glimmer in Clarissa’s eyes left no doubt that she was completely serious. “Look, accidents happen. I don’t judge. I’ve made mistakes, you’ve made mistakes. Right?” Clarissa put her hand on Paige’s shoulder and squeezed. “Do you understand?”
Paige took a deep breath. “I understand perfectly.”
Dawn came back into the pharmacy from the stock room. Clarissa nodded toward her, then turned back to Paige. “Good. Now that we’ve got that all settled, how was your weekend with your friend?” She said it in the most conversational, friendly tone. It was almost impossible to believe it was the same mouth that had spoken not ten seconds ago.
Paige tried to pull herself back into the here and now. She was in a desperate situation with her parents, and she needed to buck up and get through this. “The weekend with my friend was nice.” At least she knew the truth now. Paige pulled up some extra courage from somewhere and forced herself to pretend this was just a casual conversation with a co-worker. “It was good to see her again.”
“Good to see Cory, too, huh?” Dawn giggled from the side.
Clarissa cut a sharp glance toward her. “Cory?”
Dawn laughed. “Tell her, Paige.”
“Well, I . . .”
“See, he dropped some stuff by Paige’s house from his mother, and Paige’s friend invited him to stay for dinner. Paige has been trying her best to avoid the guy, and he just keeps showing up.”
“I never said that.”
“Did too. You told me the whole story just this morning.”
“I mean, I never said I was doing my best to avoid him.”
“Well, duh, you don’t have to tell me that. It’s pretty obvious the way you disappear every time he comes around. I bet I’ve heard him ask you out three times, and you’ve had an excuse every single time.”
“Dawn, why don’t you go listen to the refill line? In fact, why don’t we all get busy instead of standing here yakking about stuff that makes absolutely no difference to anybody?” Clarissa turned and walked to her desk.