Page 26 of Forgotten Path

“You have any idea who he was talking to?”

“Sorry, no. You may have noticed Oyster Point isn’t the most affluent place. Well, I guess that’ll change when the houses in the new development sell. But right now, I couldn’t name anyone around here who’d be looking to donate money.”

His mind flashed to the boy in the parking lot trying to earn a buck, and he nodded his understanding.

“Can you give me directions to the clinic?”

“Yeah, but he won’t be there. Like I said, he only comes in the first weekend of the month.”

“I know. And the clinic was definitely closed all weekend?”

“Definitely.”

“Still, it’s where he was headed when he left here.”

She nodded. Then, as if she’d just made up her mind about something, she untied her apron strings with a decisive snap and hung it on a hook on the wall. She turned to the teenager who was wiping down the counter. “Take over for me for a half hour or so. I’ll be back.”

She reached under the counter and retrieved a purse, then came around to the front of the shop. “Come on. I’ll take you there.”

II

“May I be the doctor and the medicine

And may I be the nurse

For all sick beings in the world

Until everyone is healed.”

Shantideva, Bodhisattva vow (circa 700 CE)

“How can anyone—mathematician, statistician, statesman—ever succeed in providing a number to represent intangibles like good health, peace of mind, joy, or the anguish of disease, premature death, loss of a parent, spouse, child?”

Jacques Yves Cousteau,The Human, the Orchid, and the Octopus(p. 86)

CHAPTERSEVENTEEN

The clinic turned out to be a somewhat rundown houseboat docked at the marina he’d passed by on his way to the juice bar. As Bodhi and Steffi made their way down the hillside, she explained that the previous owner of the houseboat had bequeathed it to the town on the condition that it be used ‘to improve the lives of the residents of Oyster Point.’

“After Mr. Gellman died, it sat empty while folks argued about what to do with it. I was still in middle school, but I remember the endless debates. Then, one day, Doc wandered into town. A kid from my class—Mikey Beauregard—was messing around on the pier with some other boys. He jumped off the piling into the water and sliced his foot open on something on the bottom of the bay. A sharp rock or a piece of glass, I don’t know. He came up howling with blood just pouring out of his foot. Doc ran over and pulled him out of the water. He had a first aid kit and was about to stitch Mikey up right there on the pier when someone had the idea to let him use Mr. Gellman’s place to do it.”

“And the rest was history?” Bodhi asked.

“Pretty much.”

“So, how long ago was this?” He tried to gauge her age. “Nine years ago?”

“Ten.”

“Joel’s been coming here once a month for a decade?”

“Yep.”

“Huh.” He thought about that for a moment, then said, “Mikey Beauregard—is he Theo’s older brother?”

“Sure is. You met Theo already? Oh no, let me guess. You parked in ‘his’ lot.”

“Nailed it.”