Chapter 47

"Pennsylvania Dutch Country"

IN THE MORNING IT WAS 'RAINING CATS AND DOGS', AN EXPRESSION I HAD HEARD FROM EARLY CHILDHOOD, BUT HAD NO IDEA WHERE IT CAME FROM …

ALL NIGHT I HAD BEEN ROUSED OFF AND ON BY GUSTS OF WIND AND RAIN HITTING ON THREE SIDES OF THE MOTEL'S END UNIT. THE DISORIENTATION MADE ME FEEL LIKE I WAS IN THE LOWER BUNK OF AN OLD WINDJAMMER, OR A GALLEON TOSSED ON THE SWELLS OF A STORMY SEA.

SOMETHING HANGING AGAINST THE OUTSIDE WALL KEPT SWEEPING BACK AND FORTH ACROSS THE CEDAR CLAPBOARD SIDING LIKE A COIL OF HOSE TIED WITH CLOTHESLINE. AND SOMETHING ELSE … MAYBE A LADDER … OR AN UNLATCHED DOOR … BANGED AGAINST THE BUILDING INTERMITTENTLY. I PULLED THE BLANKETS UP OVER MY HEAD AND SNUGGLED DEEPER; COMFORTABLE AND PLENTY WARM ENOUGH. I JUST COULDN'T HELP FEELING AS THOUGH I WAS DEEP IN THE BOWELS OF AN ENGLISH MERCHANT SHIP HEADING STRAIGHT INTO PIRATE-INFESTED WATERS.

BY 7:00 A.M. THERE WAS NO SIGN OF DAYLIGHT, AND THE RAIN KEPT COMING. I GOT UP AND WENT TO THE BATHROOM, FINISHED UP AND THEN SCOOTED BACK UNDER THE COVERS. I CATNAPPED FOR AN HOUR OR SO LONGER UNTIL DAYLIGHT FINALLY MADE A RELUCTANT APPEARANCE THROUGH THE WINDOW ACROSS FROM THE BED.

*BR-R-R-R-RRR …*

JUST LOOKING OUT THERE GAVE ME THE SHIVERS. THERE WERE SOME LIMBS DOWN BENEATH A COUPLE OF THE TREES ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE PARKING LOT. DEAD LEAVES BLEW THROUGH THE WIND AND RAIN AS THOUGH TRYING TO GET AWAY FROM SOMETHING ANGRY BEARING DOWN ON THEM. PUDDLES IN THE FRONT LOT LOOKED TO BE SIX FEET DEEP. I LET MY EYES MOVE OVER THE VOLKSWAGEN AND ITS CLAMSHELL LUGGAGE CARRIER, LOOKING FOR SIGNS OF WIND DAMAGE. NOT SURPRISINGLY IT STOOD LIKE THE ROCK OF GIBRALTER; UNDISTURBED BY MOTHER NATURE'S WRATH.

I COULD HAVE USED A HOT CUP OF COFFEE AND SOME BREAKFAST, BUT REALLY HATED TO THINK OF DODGING THROUGH THE MONSOON OUTSIDE. BERMUDA SHORTS AND LEATHER MOCCASINS WITH NO SOCKS WOULD CERTAINLY BE AN UNWISE DECISION. I KNEW I WOULD HAVE TO DIG OUT JEANS, SHOES AND A WARMER JACKET. I WALKED OVER TO THE WINDOW AND LOOKED OUT. THERE WERE FOUR CARS AND A PICKUP TRUCK PARKED OUTSIDE THE OFFICE, BUT THE OLD PETERBILT AND ITS EMPTY CAR CARRIER WERE GONE. I FINALLY THREW MY LEGS OVER THE EDGE OF THE MATTRESS AND TURNED ON THE BEDSIDE LIGHT. IT WAS 8:30 A.M. AND I WAS COMPLETELY SLEPT OUT. I QUICKLY DECIDED AGAINST TRYING TO DRIVE IN THIS KIND OF WEATHER. TODAY WOULD BE A "LAPTOP" DAY.

I took a while getting things together; glad I'd dragged my carryall out of the car yesterday. I dug deep into it and uncovered some comfortable old jeans, heavy socks and shoes, and a couple of flannel shirts that had spent nearly four years packed away in a closet in West Palm Beach. There was also a navy blue quilted jacket that was squashed in on itself even worse than the shirts. I shook it out furiously until it puffed up and came back to life.

While I was at it, I pulled the laptop out of the opposite side of the carryall and plugged it into the nearest receptacle. It could charge up while I ventured out for breakfast.

I bundled myself up for the trip to the office. I didn't know where the hell the old baseball hat had got to, but decided it was still buried in the car somewhere. I wasn't going to get soaked while I dug around for it. I grabbed my car keys and the room key, threw the latch on the door and took off at a trot. I hurried with head down and shoulders hunched, along the walkway to the office, and blew in the door like a pile of restless leaves tossed by the wind.

The same older man I'd seen behind the counter yesterday was there again this morning. The tee shirt with the name "Howard" had been replaced by a flannel shirt with the same plaid pattern as mine. I smiled at him as I took off my jacket and pointed to my shirt and then his. He took a look back and forth and grinned. "I see we have the same exquisite tastes, eh, Mr. Wilson?"

"Always nice to meet a kindred spirit, Howard. I came down for breakfast, and I believe I'll stay with you again tonight. I don't think I want to start out in weather like this." I took out my wallet and pushed another bill across to him like I'd done yesterday. He took it, rang it up, and started to make change. I stopped him. "Oh no … no change. I'm extra hungry this morning."

He grinned and gave me a sloppy highball salute. "Appreciate it. Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah," I said. "I felt right at home. One thing though …"

He paused to look at me.

"Something out back was banging on the outside wall of my room. Like a ladder or a loose door, or something made of wood that's hanging loose and getting blown around by the wind. Maybe you could have someone check it before it does some damage to the building …"

"There's a step ladder out there," Howard recalled. "Hanging on hooks. Probably an end came loose. Thanks for letting me know. If I don't check it, one of the boys will."

I nodded then, returned the highball salute and headed for the dining room with my jacket clamped under my arm.

I took the same booth as the night before and slid across by the window to look outside again. By the edge of the road, rainwater formed a shallow ditch and was rushing along like a small river. The rain didn't show any signs of stopping, so I would probably spend the rest of the day searching email addresses of all the medical journals I could think of, hunting for clues of the elusive creature known as "Dr. Kyle Calloway".

Hildy wasn't on duty this morning, but 'Gram', I assumed, was. The woman who approached me with the breakfast menu and glass of water was farm-housewife stout, dressed in black skirt and striped shirt, and looked to be about the same age as my parents. I decided a good way to find out would be to ask.

"Good mornin'," she said. "Little 'juicy' out this mornin', hain't it?" She placed the menu and water before me and stood poised with pencil and pad.

Old fashioned Pennsylvania Dutch lady, I decided. "Yes ma'am. Are you the lady that Hildy calls 'Gram'?"

She beamed, her whole face lighting up. "I am!" She said enthusiastically. "You met our Hildy, huh?"

"Yes I did. She served me dinner last night. Very nice girl."

"She is that. And what can I get you this morning, sir?"

I ordered creamed dried beef on toast, a dish of mixed fruit and one of their huge mugs of coffee. 'Gram' scribbled everything down, picked up the menu and departed. I sat staring out the window at the rain and wondered if it would ever stop …

When I was finished, I walked out to the front and put my coat on. Howard informed me that everything at the back of the building on my end had been battened down or put away in the shed. I should no longer be bothered by noises in the night. I thanked him and went out the front door, hunching against the rain and the wind as I had done before, and loped back to my room.

The rest of the afternoon I sat holed up on the bed with my laptop settled across my knees on one of the bed pillows. I began by Googling every medical journal I could find in the US of A … and if that didn't work, I would cross the borders and try the rest of the world. No stone unturned, I thought.

Seven o'clock that night, I had gone through four cups of coffee, four filled donuts and about half the medical journals in the United States. So far, unsuccessfully. I had run to the bathroom three times and I was getting hungry for regular food. It was long dark and the light beside the bed reflected off the window beyond. It was still raining, bouncing off the glass in sheets.

I closed the laptop and placed it on the bed. Made sure all my keys were in my pockets, turned down the lights, locked the door and made my fourth run down the sidewalk to the "Wander Inn" diner.

Hildy was back, waiting tables for the evening shift. She had seen me coming, shaking the rain from my jacket, and had the coffee ready. I greeted her and slid into "my" booth. "Hi James. Think God's mad enough to drown the world again?" She was grinning when she said it.

I shrugged. "I dunno … but if he is, I can't say I blame him …"

The restaurant was not crowded; far from it. I counted eight others seated here and there. The lights were turned low and the conversations, if any, were turned even lower. Outside, the rain continued in monotonous rhythm and lights in the parking lot illuminated limbs of trees moving in an undulating Samba rhythm in time with the wind.

Hildy paused by my table, refilled my coffee cup and looked at me skeptically. "James, you remind me of someone who would rather be anywhere in the world but here …"

I lowered my head and smiled in discomfort. "You're only partly right on that one," I said. "I don't mind being here … I'm just kind of up to my neck with this damned rain. It kind of drags you down when the world you live in keeps telling you you're not welcome …"

She smiled. "I wish you fair weather soon, so you can be on your way."

"Thank you."

I took a mug of coffee and a filled doughnut back to the room with me.

Was it just me, or was the wind beginning to die down? Was the rain slacking off too, or was it just my wishful thinking? Ah well … there was an infinite number of medical journals somewhere in the ether waiting for me … and one of them was the right one to give me a clue to that wil-o-the-wisp that was my ex-best friend.

Gregory House was out there … somewhere …

READERS, PLEASE NOTE:

I'm posting this chapter early because:

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