Court Papers in the Locked Drawer of a Community Doctor
I met him on the porch steps, the afternoon air turning cooler as the sun began its descent behind the tree line. Marcus stopped at the bottom step, his boots caked with gray mud from the road.
“I brought the brush cutters, Mrs. Miller,” Marcus said, gesturing toward the back of his truck. “And the long-handled shears for the briars.”
“Thank you, Marcus,” I said. “We can start with the path to the dock. The growth has made it difficult to carry the wood down.”
He nodded once, his eyes darting to Ben, who was standing in the doorway. “I heard about the court yesterday. From my cousin who works at the clerk’s office.”
“The petition was dismissed,” I said, keeping my tone plain and even. “The judge ruled that my cognitive health is excellent.”
Marcus pulled his hands from his pockets and adjusted the strap of his safety glasses. “I was worried David would find out I talked to Karen. He called my house three times on Thursday night.”
“You don’t have to worry about David anymore, Marcus,” I said. “He has other matters to occupy his time now.”
