“You have a family,” she said with lacerating formality. “If we’d kept going, we would have destroyed that. We have no right to do that. You can’t build happiness on someone else’s pain.”
Before Tom could answer, she brushed past him and went back to work. As the day wore on, Tom rehearsed a thousand arguments in his mind, but the more he tried to argue with her premise, the more right he realized she was. He’d been in denial from the beginning, and Viola had simply chosen to force him out of it. There were only two possible endings for their relationship: in Scenario One, Tom would keep his family and Viola would be alone, at least until she found someone new; in Scenario Two … well, Scenario Two was unthinkable. If Tom tried to possess Viola, he would destroy his family, his career, Viola, and possibly even himself.
In truth, both scenarios seemed unendurable. To lose Viola would be agony, yet to give up his family would mean betraying his deepest convictions. Then, like an unexpected blow, the full weight of the first possibility struck Tom: to see Viola in love with someone else … that might well shatter him. After this realization, every moment of that day became a struggle to maintain control of himself. He was trying to figure out some Solomonic solution when Dr. Lucas called him into his office and told him that Viola had asked to be assigned to Dr. Ross, a GP Lucas had hired two months earlier. Ross was only two years out of medical school, and Dr. Lucas told Tom that both Ross and the clinic would benefit from Viola’s experience. Tom sat in shock before his senior partner’s desk, unable to find credible words of protest.
“It’s for the best,” Lucas said in a stern voice. “Viola’s close to a nervous breakdown. And you’re not thinking straight, Tom. If you were, you wouldn’t be putting your family at risk. The clinic, too, to be honest, with the way the goddamn Klan has been going at it these past couple of years.”
“The Klan?” Tom said dully.
“Let’s just leave it at that, all right? Viola will be working under Dr. Ross from now on. You’ll get Anna Mae.”
Tom swallowed hard, trying to find his voice.
“That’s all,” Dr. Lucas said. “Go home and see your kids. I saw Penn’s name in the newspaper yesterday, didn’t I?”
“Penn?”
“Your son, goddamn it! He hit a home run at Duncan Park. Go home!”
Somehow Tom rose from the chair and found his way down the hall to his office. He buzzed the receptionist and asked to see Viola, but the receptionist told him all the nurses had gone for the day. He was certain he’d heard a note of triumph in the woman’s voice. He waited until everyone had left the clinic, then called Viola’s house. She didn’t answer.
He found a stack of charts and began dictating, but between each record he dialed Viola’s house. She never answered. As the tension in him grew to an unbearable pitch, he swept the files onto the floor, then ran out to his car and drove to the colored side of town. Whenever he’d gone to Viola’s house before, he’d always been in her car, lying on the floor of her backseat. Now he drove right up to her frame house, his eyes scanning the carport, which was empty. He wanted to park out front and wait for her, but even unhinged as he was, he knew that would be crazy.
That night he lay clenching and unclenching his sweaty fists beside his sleeping wife. In the hour before dawn, he felt closer to madness than he ever had in his life—even in Korea. The seed of that madness was the knowledge not only that he had to give up Viola, but that one day—perhaps not long from now—she would be lying in the arms of another man. Nothing could mitigate the horror of this prospect, or assuage the anger he felt—not even the thought of his wife and children, happy and carefree in a bountiful future. For the price of their happiness was Viola.
But even if he were willing to pay that price, how could he work in proximity to a woman he loved but could no longer touch? How could he treat her as merely an employee? How could she ask that of him? And how could she endure it? Unless … no—she loved him still. Of that he was certain. Viola would keep her job because she needed it to eat. Any merciful separation would have to be provided by him. That meant finding a new clinic. Maybe starting his own practice …
By the next morning, Tom had fallen into a state of near catatonia. He didn’t shower before driving to work, and he moved like an automaton when he got out of the car, not speaking to anyone he passed on the sidewalk. He knew no other way to face the lie he would now be living, one that slowly starved the soul rather than nourishing it, one that snuffed out hope rather than kindling it. What Tom did not know was that behind the door of the clinic that morning waited a future of blood and violence that would surpass even the war—
“Dr. Cage?” called a panicked voice. “Dr. Cage, the door’s locked!”
Tom heard a harsh rapping at his office door. How long had it been going on? “Just a damn minute,” he said under his breath. With a last look at the Polaroid of Viola, he slipped the photo back into The Killer Angels and reshelved the book.
“Dr. Cage!” Melba cried, her voice insistent. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine! I’m coming!” He took a deep breath, then opened the door and stepped back so that Melba could enter. “I must have locked it by mistake.”
“Don’t do that!” said the nurse. “I didn’t know what might have happened in here.”
“Melba …” He shook his head and opened his palms. “I’m not going to kill myself or anything.”
“Of course not. I just … your heart. Anything could happen, and at any time. That’s what your cardiologist said.”
“I locked it by mistake,” Tom said gently. “But listen … if it’s my time, there’s not much we can do.”
Melba gave him a sisterly glare. “Don’t you say that. Don’t talk like that.”
“All right.”
“Well, then. The reason I needed to talk to you is that someone’s been calling on the phone for you. He’s waiting on the line now.”