TFRoot - The Elixer Read online

  "Oh really! Perhaps you can help me then. I've decided that it's time to put my affairs in order. I'd like to set up one of those living trusts I've been reading about."

  "Well, generally speaking, the main advantage of a living trust as opposed to a will is avoiding probate. You have to realize though that I'm not aMassachusetts lawyer, and every state has slightly different laws, so I'd have to research it a bit before I could advise you if there'd be any real advantage for you, at least in terms of expense."

  "Oh, I've done my research, Tom,” said Lucinda brightly. “I'm not really concerned about expense as much as expediency, and publicity. I'm a very private person, and I don't wish to have any court inquiring into my affairs after I'm gone.” She smiled. “The living trust does ensure privacy, does it not?"

  Tom nodded affirmatively. Before he could elaborate, the waitress arrived with Tom and Carole's identical dinner orders—twin whole boiled lobsters, creamed spinach, and a baked potato with butter and sour cream—and placed them, along with two baskets of nutcrackers, lobster forks, lobster bibs, and wet napkins, on the table.

  "Enjoy!” she said genially.

  "Thank you,” Carole replied pleasantly. She noticed that the shells of the tails of her lobsters had not been split in half on their underside, the preferred way they are served, making it easier to remove the meat. “Carrie!” she called out after the waitress, who had quickly disappeared. “My tails are not split,” she said by way of explanation to no one in particular.

  Tom meanwhile, without saying a word, had already separated the tails from the body of both of his lobsters. Using his large regular dinner fork he niftily removed the meat from the tail shells, leaving the tails completely intact and in one piece. He switched plates with Carole.

  "You can start on these,” he said to her, smiling. He then began to work on the other two lobsters.

  "Oh, thanks, Hon,” said Carole with genuine appreciation. She happily attacked her lobster tails.

  Tom placed a third tail on her plate. “I know you like the tails best,” he said.

  "Why, you two are absolutely perfect!” exclaimed Lucinda, without the slightest bit of sarcasm. “What an adorable little couple you make!"

  The waitress now arrived with Lucinda's plate of scrod and fresh, steamed carrots and placed it on the table.

  "Will there be anything else?"

  "No dear."

  "Didyou need anything else?"

  "No, we're fine, thanks,” answered Tom and Carole in almost perfect unison, looking up simultaneously. They both smiled, as much at each other as at the waitress.

  Lucinda shook her head. “Now Carrie, tell me the truth: is this not the cutest couple you have ever seen?” she asked, gesturing alternately at Tom and Carole.

  "Oh, yes, ma'am."

  "Why, they even look alike! They could be brother and sister!"

  "You know, I was just thinking the exact same thing! Same eyes, hair color...."

  "That's rather insulting to my wife, comparing her to me,” Tom protested, mildly. “I happen to think thatshe's quite attractive."

  "Well, I think you both are,” said Lucinda decisively. “Very much so, in fact.” She looked up to the waitress for confirmation, who nodded shyly and then quietly slipped away from the table. Lucinda took a bite of her scrod. “And it's obvious that you are very much in love with each other. I can certainly see that.” She smiled. “A blind man could see that! Yes, you two are very loving, caring people. I imagine that you will make wonderful parents some day.” Tom and Carole both continued eating and said nothing, casting quick glances at one another. “Oh, dear,” said Lucinda, taking note of their reaction. “I hope I haven't said something I shouldn't have."

  "Oh, no, not at all,” said Carole graciously, “We both want very much to have a family. Wehave been trying, almost since we first got married."

  "Well, I certainly hope that you have some luck."

  "Thanks. I hope that we do too, preferably soon. We're not getting any younger, you know!"

  "Oh, nonsense, you two have plenty of time. You're just babies yourself!"

  "We're probably older than you think,” said Carole, slyly raising an eyebrow.

  "Yes,” Tom added, “I suppose that because of our small sizes, people seem to think of us youngsters, somehow. As if we were going to grow, or something."

  "Well, there are some advantages to being smaller, you know,” said Lucinda. “Believe it or not, I wouldn't have minded being a bit more petite myself."

  "I would have been a lot happier had I been a bit taller,” said Tom. “As for Carole, well, as far as I'm concerned, she's perfect just as he is."

  Lucinda smiled. “Yes, she is very special.” She turned to Carole. “You know, you are a very, very beautiful woman."

  "Thank you,” said Carole sweetly, with a touch of shy embarrassment. “You're very kind, but, if anything, I'mpretty ,” she insisted, “notbeautiful ."

  "I disagree,” said Lucinda, looking at her intently. “And I absolutely adore your hair.” She turned to Tom. “Your wife has the most gorgeous hair!"

  "Yes, she does,” Tom agreed. “And she does nice things with it.” Carole did have really beautiful hair, Tom thought, long, full, so silky and shiny. He always loved that whenever she got dressed up, as she had tonight, she took the time to blow-dry it and use her curling iron to create the loose, sexy waves that so perfectly framed her face.

  "I'm nothing without my hair,” Carole said, somewhat humbly. She sighed. “It's actually been getting thin lately, you know; I guess from getting older, plus my medications."

  "What are you taking?” asked Lucinda matter-of-factly.

  Tom laughed. “Don't ask,” he interjected with a wave of his hand, trying to appear jovial while at the same time precluding any further discussion of a topic he knew his wife was usually reluctant to discuss.

  It seemed however that Carole was becoming uncharacteristically comfortable with Lucinda. “I'm taking pain-killers, mostly” she offered rather candidly, “both analgesics and anti-inflammatories. I take antibiotics much of the time, because my immune system is so compromised. Also, I'm on medication for low blood pressure, which is caused by the pain-killers."

  "Your condition, it's called RSD?"

  "ReflexS ympatheticD ystrophy,” said Carole, nodding. “It's a rare disorder of the sympathetic nervous system, basically what controls the body's involuntary response to stress, and it causes a variety of symptoms, but the major problem is chronic pain.Bad pain! It gets worse when I get overtired, or too stressed out. You can see where this can get to be a real issue. Also, because of the medications I have to take to control the pain, I just don't have as much energy as most people my age.” She smiled weakly, adding almost apologetically: “It's almost like I'm a little old lady."

  "How ironic,” Lucinda mumbled to herself, barely audibly; then, to Carole: “Was this something you were born with?"

  "No. RSD is thought to be caused by trauma, usually damage to soft tissue. In my case it was an accident."

  "Automobile?"

  "No, I was working, as a physical therapist.” Carole shook her head ruefully. “Isn't thatironic ? I was doing a massage on a very large, ungainly woman; she must have weighed over three hundred pounds. Anyway, I had to have her standing up, because she was just too large for the table, and she fell on me, and my right ankle bent awkwardly. It was the strangest thing. The doctors thought that the muscles or ligaments should have torn, or been damaged in some normal way, but they weren't. Instead, my body must have decided to ... well, to do this.” She smiled sadly. “At first the pain was unbelievable, as if my ankle were on fire. The joint stiffened up, and then, over time, the muscles in my leg began to atrophy. That's why I still walk with a limp. But the worst part of it is the pain, which never really goes away. I have to go every few months for treatments. My doctor injects marcaine—that's an anesthetic—into certain nerves in my spine, to try to make the pain tolerable."

/>   "And nothing else can be done?"

  Carole shook her head. “I've just had to get used to taking pain-killers every day. It's been about six years now. I've had my ups and downs, times when it's been not that bad, other times ... well, we all have to deal with ... whatever God asks us to deal with, I guess. It's not reallythat bad, most of the time; or maybe I'm just getting used to it."

  "Sometimes, if the symptoms get bad enough, people with RSD have to have surgery, to sever the nerves that are transmitting the pain,” said Tom, cutting in. “Actually, so I've read, that often results in a complete cure, especially in younger people.” This last was said pointedly, directed at Carole.

  "I'm not having any surgery,” Carole said quietly but forcefully. I'd never take that chance."

  "Carole's old neurologist, who'd been giving her the marcaine injections, just retired, so she needs to find someone new. I want to take her to see my doctor in New York. He's very good, affiliated with a good hospital, knows a lot of top specialists—at least, they have good reputations—and I know that he'll find someone who can give Carole the best treatment available, whatever that may be.” Tom sensed Carole's unease at his authoritativeness, and tried to soften his tone. “Look, I'm not a doctor myself, so maybe I'm not necessarily qualified to say if someone is a good doctor or not; all I know is that I have a very good relationship with him, and I trust him. I hope that Carole will too, if she decides to see him.” He looked to Lucinda for affirmation. “That's really the most important thing, isn't it; having faith in whoever is treating you?"

  "Definitely,” said Lucinda quietly. “It's all about faith, really."

  "Do you have a doctor that you like here in town, or do you go somewhere else?” asked Carole. “I mean, if you don't mind my asking."

  Lucinda chuckled. “Actually, I try to avoid doctors myself."

  "I wish that we could do that,” Tom remarked with a sigh. “Unfortunately, we can't."

  "Well,” said Lucinda, measuring her words carefully, “I wouldn't presume to tell you what to do, but I do know that modern medicine doesn't have all the answers.” She took a long sip of her tea. “Personally, I've had much more success with alternative treatments, home remedies and such."

  "Well, I'd be willing to try something new,” said Carole, clearly interested. “Then again,” she added, “it's hard to believe there is anything I haven't tried already.” She shot a glance at her husband.

  Tom nodded. “That's for sure.”God knows how much time we've wasted with quacks!

  "Did you have anything specific in mind?” Carole asked Lucinda.

  Lucinda lifted her tea cup. “Herbs,” she said, aspirating the “h” in the English fashion. “I have a little shop in town where I deal in all sorts of teas, including some herbal teas. I happen to know more than a few people who credit their health to the use of herbs.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “I probably shouldn't be telling you this,” she said, almost whispering, “I mean, I'm not a licensed physician, of course, so it's probably not technically ...lega l ... but I grow some of the more exotic herbs in my garden at home, and I've actually treated a wide variety of illnesses with my own personal blends.” She leaned back and took another sip of tea. “Quite successfully,” she added.

  "Have you ever treated anyone with RSD?” asked Carole hopefully.

  "No,” Lucinda confessed, “in fact, until tonight, I didn't even know precisely what it was. If the problem is simply pain, well, I can take care of that easily, just like that,” she said confidently, pretending to snap her fingers. “And I can assure you that natural treatments,my treatments, would do the job without the side effects of all those pain-killing drugs you're taking. As for the underlying illness itself, well, that might take some doing. I would have to so some research, of course, and, well, you understand, trial and error, but I'm sure that we could find something out there, somewhere that could help you."

  "Well,” said Carole brightly, “I'm certainly intrigued. What do you think, Tom?"

  What do I think? I think we should go to New York and see a real doctor!“Yes, well,” Tom remarked blandly, “we've done a little investigation in fact; about medicinal herbs, I mean. I suppose they can be of value sometimes. After all, it's just a matter of chemistry, as with any other drug.” He paused for a moment; then his curiosity got the better of him. “What sort of conditions have you actually treated, Lucy?"

  "Oh, just about everything, really,” she replied.

  Tom smiled. “Now, Lucy, I'm not talking about taking chamomile tea to help you get to sleep, or peppermint tea to soothe an upset stomach. I mean, have you ever treated anything really serious?"

  "Actually, Tom, there's probably nothing that I haven't treated, at one time or another; and I'm talking about myself, personally, not just other people."

  "That's a little hard to believe, Lucy. You seem perfectly healthy, and you're not exactly an old woman."

  "I am getting up there you know,” Lucinda said, smiling. “I'mprobably a bit older thanyou think,” she said mysteriously, winking at Carole.

  Tom chuckled self-consciously. It went without saying that he would do anything to help his wife, but after meeting with so little success in the past, he was hesitant to set her, and himself, up for yet another disappointment. Furthermore, and perhaps more importantly, there was just something about Lucinda that made him distinctly uncomfortable, and reluctant to engage her in something as important as Carole's health and well-being. “Well then,” he said finally, measuring his words carefully, “I imagine that you could probably do something to help Carole with her RSD. Of course, and I mean no offense when I say this, I would want to know exactly what you would plan to give her and check with a doctor first, to make sure that there is nothing dangerous in it, or that it wouldn't interact improperly with something else she's taking, or anything else that we might not know about. I do know that some herbs can be dangerous."

  "That's very true, Tom,” agreed Lucinda. “Especially if you don't know what you're dealing with, if you don't know what you're doing.” She looked around the restaurant, turning her head quickly from side to side as if to ascertain if there were anyone there who should not be hearing what she was about to say. She leaned forward toward Tom, and then turned her head to Carole, drawing in both of them, as if she were sharing some great confidence. “The truth of the matter, however,” she said in an urgent, hoarse whisper, her eyes now burning with an unnerving, manic intensity, “is that I happen to know just as much, if not more, about herbs, and drugs, and about the human body, for that matter, as anyone who's ever gone to any medical school anywhere in this world, and I am absolutely certain that I could do wonders for Carole, if not cure her completely.” She leaned back and took a long sip of her tea. “I'm absolutely certain,” she repeated.

  Tom suppressed his natural inclination to inquire exactly how Lucinda had obtained this impressive body of scientific knowledge.Okay, this woman is a bit eccentric; perhaps crazy is more like it! But, she is trying to be friendly, she seems to genuinely want to help Carole, and, most importantly, Carole seems interested, so the best thing to do is jolly her along. “Very interesting, Lucy,” he said finally. We'll have to pay you a visit sometime, and talk about it. Maybe in a few days, after we get settled in."

  "Yes, definitely,” added Carole, in an enthusiastic voice. “I'm feeling pretty good right now, but I would love to be able to get off all of these pain-killers."

  Tom surreptitiously caught Carole's eye, and ever-so-slightly raised his eyebrow, trying not to let Lucinda notice. Carole grinned pleasantly at Lucinda; simultaneously, and with subtlety equal to her husband's her eyes met his and wordlessly communicated her agreement with his unspoken assessment of Lucinda's dubious credibility.Thank God, thought Tom.For a minute there, I thought my wife was starting to buy into this! Relieved, he savored the last bite of his lobster.

  CHAPTER THREE

  "All right, Sammy, it's coming straight away!"

  L
ucinda Hobson stood at the kitchen counter methodically slicing the small portion of leftover fish she had brought home from the restaurant into tiny, bite-sized pieces.

  "I said it's coming, Sammy!” she reiterated, as the lithe little black cat impatiently circled her, rubbing the side of his head against her legs. Lucinda opened the cabinet, took out a plate, and placed the bits of fish on it, but before she could put the plate down on the floor the cat leaped onto the counter to attack his evening treat. Lucinda stepped back and left the plate on the counter, shaking her head in mock exasperation. “Samuel Matthias Hobson! You are an ill-mannered little animal!” She could barely suppress a girlish giggle at the silliness of her own statement.He is a cat, after all. “I suppose it's my own fault,” she muttered, half to herself. “I've spoiled you terribly."

  Sammy made short work of the fish, then backed away from the plate, turned, and looked up at Lucinda, slowly running his little tongue across his lips in that typically feline fashion.