Mortal Mistakes

  “Let’s go back out front and see what Mary can come up with. If she doesn’t come up with something, then I really don’t know what else to suggest. Good luck dear and take care." He patted her on the shoulder and turned to address his next patient.

  “Mrs. Bronsky,” Mary Dorhman began, “I spoke with Dr. Griedlach’s office—”

  “Yes, “ Karen anxiously interrupted.

  “They have the same address and phone number in their files as we have." Mary watched hope drain from Karen’s face. She had begun to suspect that Karen and Stan were estranged. “They suggested that Methodist Hospital might have other information. That’s where Dr. Griedlach sent Mr. Bronsky for tests." A slight improvement showed on Karen’s face. “I have a phone number for Methodist if you like." She wrote the number on a piece of paper and handed it to Karen.

  “Thanks Mary. Thanks a lot. I’ll try calling them later.”

  *****

  Karen strapped Jenny into the back seat of her car and drove away from the parking lot. She seemed unsure of where she should go from there. She started to drive to the hospital. But she didn‘t want to take Jenny there. So she turned around and drove in the opposite direction toward the nursery.

  As she drove, she prayed silently, I know I haven’t been to church like I should. And I know how wrong I was about Stan and Jan. I’m really sorry about that and I need help finding him. I‘ll never be that stupid again.

  Tears began to fill her eyes.

  Karen dropped Jenny off at Mrs. Obenhauer’s nursery on the way to the gallery. Jenny was fussy and didn’t want to be left with Mrs. O., who noted the redness in Karen’s eyes.

  “What’s wrong with my little Jenny?" Mrs. O. asked sympathetically.

  “Go Mummih, see Dahhie!" Jenny stubbornly replied.

  “Honey, Mommy has to go and find Daddy first. I’ll be back for you just as soon as I find him.”

  ‘Go and find Daddy’? Mrs. Obenhauer puzzled to herself. Karen had never told her of their separation. She would not do so now.

  Chapter 25

  Paula finished a sale. After bidding her customer good day, she sat down at her desk at the back of the gallery. She had hardly stopped thinking of Karen and Stan since dropping her best friend at the doctor’s office. She wished Karen would phone and let her know what was happening. I wonder if she’s been able to contact him yet?

  Paula recalled the helpless feeling of not knowing, when she learned that Len‘s plane was missing. She couldn’t sleep or eat for days. The memory of that experience was painful for her now. She had to distract herself from those memories. She abruptly stood and walked to the front of the store where she adjusted some paintings. The back door opened and she was spared from painful memories that had begun to trouble her mind.

  “Kay, I’ve been so worried about you. Did you find out anything?”

  “I’m sorry, Pau. I should have called you from the doctor’s office. They didn’t have Stan’s address or phone number. They suggested that I try the hospital where he had some tests done. I thought I would call from here. I dropped Jenny at Mrs. Obenhauer’s.”

  “If the hospital doesn’t know how to contact Stan, then what about the place where he worked, CTC? Do you think someone there might still know how to reach him?”

  “That’s possible I guess. I’ll try the hospital first and then go from there." Karen sat down at the desk and dialed the phone number.

  “Yes, I'm trying to find out some information from my husbands tests,” she began.

  A dispassionate sounding voice answered the phone, “Records. This is Shana. How can I help you?”

  “Hi, This is Karen Bronsky. I was told that you might have contact information for my husband. He had some tests done there recent—”

  “I’m sorry, but we don’t give out patient information over the phone." Shana interrupted.

  “But, I’m his wife," Karen pleaded. “Our house burn—”

  “I’m sorry Ms. Bronksy. That's hospital policy." Shana interrupted again.

  “Can I please speak to your supervisor, then?" Karen was becoming aggravated.

  “That would be Miss Jenkins. She’s not available. Would you like her voice mail?" Shana sounded irritated too.

  Karen plopped the phone onto the receiver and stood up.

  “Pau, I’m just going to have to ride over there. I can't find out anything on the phone. I’m sorry." She gathered her purse and keys.

  “It’s okay, sweetie. Do what you have to do. I‘ve got the store covered. Stay in touch. Let me know as soon as you find out anything.”

  *****

  Karen hurried through a hallway at Methodist Hospital to the office of Miss Jenkins. She hoped that she wouldn’t have to produce documentation to prove her relationship to Stan before they would release the information that she so desperately wanted. Their marriage license burned in the fire along with all their important papers and she saw no need to replace it.

  “Good morning. How may I help you?" Miss Jenkins asked from behind her desk.

  “Hi, I’m Karen Bronsky. My husband had some tests done here recently. I need to know what address and phone number he gave."

  Karen knew that she must seem vague and suspicious to Miss Jenkins, but it was a start. “I’m afraid that he may have given you our old address. You see, we haven’t received any statements from the hospital." It wasn’t a complete fabrication.

  “What’s your husband’s social security number, Mrs. Bronsky?" Miss Jenkins asked in a routine manner. "And I’ll check our records.”

  “Oh gosh, I have no idea. I barely remember my own.”

  “Do you know what the date of service was?”

  “No, I’m sorry. I don’t."

  Karen could sense that Miss Jenkins was becoming wary and was sure that the woman was about to refuse any further assistance. She knew for sure that if Miss Jenkins became aware of their estrangement, she wouldn‘t tell her anything about Stan.

  “Doctor Griedlach ordered the tests, if that helps. I’m not sure how his name is spelled. I could call his office to find out the dates.”

  Miss Jenkins hesitantly began pushing buttons on her computer.

  “What's your new address Mrs. Bronsky?”

  “2179 East Brooke Circle is our old address,” Karen offered.” She hoped that the substitution would satisfy Miss Jenkins.

  “Yes, that’s the address we have in our files." Miss Jenkins replied. She was somewhat relieved that Karen had demonstrated a satisfactory degree of legitimacy. She failed to notice the disappointment that suddenly showed on Karen‘s face.

  “Let me have your new address and I’ll update our records."

  Karen hesitated, then gave her the address and phone number of her apartment. She thanked Miss Jenkins and hastily left her office. She was relieved that her deception hadn’t been uncovered. But her relief was outweighed by disappointment, because she had gotten no new leads regarding Stan’s whereabouts. Now what do I do, she wondered.

  She got back into her car and sat behind the steering wheel in deep thought, before starting the engine. Stan’s old boss at CTC, Bob Steen, I’ll call him. Maybe he‘ll know how to reach Stan.

  She started her car and drove to a nearby gas station where she located a pay phone.

  “Mr. Windsor’s office," a nasal voice answered.

  “I need to speak to Bob Steen," Karen replied.

  “I’m sorry, we don’t have a Mr. Steen," Nasal Voice said. “Can someone else help you?”

  “I’m trying to locate Stan Bronsky, who recently worked there.”

  “I don’t know a Mr. Bronsky either," Nasal Voice informed.

  “Are you sure? He worked there for several years.”

  “I’m sorry, I can‘t help you with any information regarding Mr. Steen or Mr. Bronsky.”

  “May I please speak with Jan Murray?”

  “I’m sorry. Ms. Murray
is not in.” Karen was getting frustrated.

  Think Karen, think, she commanded herself, who was Bob’s boss? Oh!

  “Oh." Karen said, after remembering. “May I speak with Mr. Grissom?”

  “Mr. Grissom is not available. Can someone else help you?”

  “Who’s in charge? Let me speak to whoever is in charge.”

  “Mam, I’m afraid I can’t help you unless you have a specific name."

  “Look, this is Karen Bronsky and I’m trying to locate a very sick man, my husband. This is really important. I realize that you’re not supposed to give out personal information, but for God’s sake, can you please have a little compassion?”

  “I’m sorry Mrs. Bronsky. Nasal Voice was losing patience too. “If you would like to make an appointment with Mr. Grissom when he returns from Europe, perhaps he can help you.”

  Karen angrily hung up the phone. She was livid. She got back into her car and sped away from the gas station. The squeal of the car’s tires punctuated her frustration.

  *****

  Karen had hardly calmed down by the time she got back to the gallery.

  “What did you find out Kay?" Paula anxiously quizzed as soon as Karen came through the door.

  “Not a blasted thing!" Karen replied. Her disgust and frustration were obvious in the tone of her voice and the expression on her face. She flung her purse onto the desk and related the details of her hospital experience and her CTC phone call to her friend.

  “Oh Kay," Paula said with compassion. “Let's don’t give up now."

  Paula hugged her disheartened friend.

  “We’ll just have to think of something else. Tears began to well up in both of their eyes as they embraced.

  Karen pulled away abruptly. “Pau, do we have a city phone book?”

  “Look in that three drawer file over there. It‘s in the bottom drawer, I think.”

  Karen opened the drawer and took out the thick book. She laid it on the desk and began to thumb through pages. “Yes!" she exclaimed. She tapped her finger over the book at Jan Murray’s name. “Jan Murray," she said, looking at Paula. She picked up the phone and dialed the number.

  “Hi. We can’t come to the phone right now. Leave a message at the beep," Jan’s friendly sounding voice drawled from her answering machine.

  “Hi. Uh—" Karen muttered. She was somewhat flustered at the sound of Jan’s voice and hadn’t planned a message. 'We?' she wondered. “Uh hi Jan, this is Karen—uh Bronsky. I would like very much to talk to you about— If you would, could you just please call me back as soon as you get this. Thanks." She hung up.

  “Kay honey, you didn’t leave a number," Paula informed her. “Call her back." She pointed at the phone.

  Karen dialed Jan’s number again and apologized, then left the gallery phone number and the number at her apartment.

  “What if she’s away on vacation or something, Pau? I remember Stan saying something about her going to Europe one time, for weeks. And I was told that Mr. Grissom is in Europe.”

  “Now, now, give it a chance, Kay. Meanwhile, try to think of anyone else that might know where Stan is.”

  “I have tried Pau. I guess Stan didn’t really have any close friends, just me and Jen." She broke out in sobs. “And I totally let him down, Pau. God! I hate myself!" Her sobbing increased.

  “There, there," Paula consoled. “Anyone might have made the same mistake Kay. I might have made the same mistake."

  She had no further suggestions, just a tender heart that shared the pain of her best friend.

  “Pau, if you don’t mind, I’m going to leave and pick Jen up and go home. Maybe Jan Murray will call there. If she calls here, ask her to please phone my place. And let me know right away if she calls. Please?”

  “You go right ahead, Kay. And please call me, if you hear from her first. Okay?”

  *****

  As she entered the nursery, Karen dreaded facing Jenny. She knew that Jenny would be disappointed when she found out that she wouldn‘t be seeing her father today. On the other hand, Karen was anxious to have the little girl’s company and affection.

  “Hi sweetie." She greeted Jenny with open arms.

  “See Dahhie?" Jenny questioned as she hugged Karen.

  “Maybe later, honey." Karen hoisted Jenny to her hip. Their disappointed faces spoke good byes to Mrs. Obenhauer. The elder woman’s curiosity was aroused, but she dared not pry. She sensed Karen’s need for compassion though.

  “Goodbye dear. I do hope you and Jenny have a good day." She said the words with as much love and compassion as she could.

  Jenny continued to fuss as Karen strapped her into her car seat. “See Dahhie!”

  Chapter 26

  Paula greeted a new customer in her gallery. What a remarkable girl, she thought to herself, I don't remember ever seeing her before. “Hi, I’m Paula Chantley. Can I help you? Did you have something particular in mind?" she asked, as Jan Murray looked with interest at paintings.

  “Not really. Well, yes, I’m looking for something cheery for a friend who needs a lift.”

  “Does your friend like a particular type of art?" Paula asked.

  “Actually, I don’t know if he likes art at all," Jan replied. “But, he said that his place was dreary and I just thought that I’d give him something to cheer it up.”

  “What sort of place is it? Is the decor modern or traditional? What’s his furniture like?”

  “To tell you the truth, I haven’t seen the place. Maybe I should check it out before I buy anything?" She gave Paula a questioning look.

  “Well, our sale only runs through Saturday. But, if you want to take something with you now, I’ll let you bring it back for a full exchange later if it doesn’t suit his place. And, I’ll still give you the sale discount on a different selection."

  Paula assessed Jan’s face and figure with interest as Jan examined paintings.

  “My brother bought a painting here for my last birthday,' Jan stated. I really like it.

  “Good. Say, would you mind if I ask you a personal question?” Paula quizzed.

  “What’s that?" Jan asked.

  “Have you ever done any modeling? You have a beautiful face and figure.”

  Jan smiled and turned away. “Thanks, you‘re very kind," she replied. Since becoming a Christian, Jan became very humble about her looks.

  “No, I’ve never modeled. I’m really not interested in that sort of thing anymore. Oh, I like that one up there with the clowns." Jan pointed.

  “That is a cheerful painting." Paula said. She wondered how someone so beautiful could be so nonchalant about her looks. She also wondered what Jan meant when she said, “anymore”. Paula climbed on a small step ladder and took down the clown painting. Jan smiled as she examined it.

  “Anymore?" Paula questioned and looked at Jan, who returned a puzzled look. “You said that you aren’t interested in anything like modeling, ‘anymore’.”

  “No, I wouldn‘t be." Jan didn’t elaborate. A few months earlier, she might have been excited at the prospect of modeling. She held the painting in the light from the window. “I really like this. It should go with almost anything that Stan has.”

  “It should be a pleasant compliment to just about any décor," Paula said. She failed to notice Jan’s mention of Stan’s name. She did note that Jan did not wear a wedding or engagement ring and continued to wonder what Jan meant by, “anymore”. Apparently it didn’t refer to disinterest because of marriage. And Jan’s clothes and jewelry didn’t look expensive. So her lack of enthusiasm toward modeling apparently wasn’t because she had become wealthy.

  “’Anymore‘, you said?" Paula repeated the question.

  “How much?" Jan heard Paula's question and saw the puzzled look on her face but chose to not reply.

  “It will be one thirty five, with the discount," Paula answered.

  “I’ll tak
e it," Jan happily replied.

  As Jan counted money from her purse, she noticed that Paula still had a inquisitive look.

  Jan had not told many people about her new found faith. She felt awkward and inadequate when she tried to explain her belief in Jesus and all that it meant to her. But, she sensed a need to tell Paula something. She took a deep breath.

  “You asked me what I meant by ‘anymore’," she said, as she accepted a printed receipt from Paula whose interest was noticeably aroused. “It’s not something that I’m all that comfortable talking about, to strangers especially. But I'll try to explain if you really want to know.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just that, the way you said it, I got the impression that you might have been interested in modeling in the past, but that something has changed. I often use models in my work and so do many of my associates. But it’s really none of my business.”

  Paula sensed that she may have gotten too inquisitive.

  “That’s okay," Jan interrupted. “I understand your interest. If you have a few minutes, I’ll tell you about it." Paula motioned for Jan to sit in a chair by her desk and then took a seat herself.

  “For most of my life,” Jan began, “people have told me how great I looked. It always made me feel good to hear it. I’m sure you know what that’s like. You’re very attractive yourself."

  She felt sure that Paula did understand even though she didn‘t acknowledge it. And she could see that Paula’s interest was still stirred.

  “You know, after a while, you can come to expect people to say nice things about your looks. And you can get to be vane and prideful. It can get to be like an addiction. If you don’t hear the compliments and praise that you want to hear, then you do what you can to get them. You get a new hairdo or dress a little splashier or whatever it takes." Jan paused. She thought that she detected a slight discomfort in Paula, and realized that she might be coming across as judgmental to the attractive, short skirted artist.

  “Please go on," Paula cautiously broke the silence.

  “I didn’t mean to imply that you might be that way," Jan said with a very apologetic tone and facial expression. “I’m sorry if I sounded like that."