The Spruce Valley Miracle

By Andrew DeQuasie

Our civilization is indeed fortunate that Dr. Visionaire has been the first to solve the problem of turning back the clock on the aging process. Fortunate because the brilliant Dr. Visionaire is a highly ethical man. He knows that his discovery can have disastrous consequences; a sudden population explosion as death becomes rare; economic chaos as pension plans go bankrupt; entrenchment of immortal dictators; frozen opportunities for young people facing an immovable establishment.

The doctor decides to expose the world to proof of his discovery in a small way without revealing the secret. He knows that someone else will eventually discover the secret and perhaps have no compunction about releasing it, but hopes to give the world time to prepare for the consequences before it becomes an unleashed reality.

He takes a job as resident physician in the Spruce Valley rest home for elderly people. As the residents begin to regain their youth, he pretends to be mystified and encourages the rumor that the spring supplying water to the facility might be a second Lourdes. Then he leads the owner of the rest home and the owner's wife into a plot to confirm the Lourdes hoax. As the good doctor puts it, it's necessary to give God the credit --- and the blame.

The doctor has chosen his fellow conspirators well. They have a grand time establishing the hoax, which sometimes succeeds all too well.

As the fame of the Spruce Valley Miracle spreads and the facility is doubled, the first of Doctor Visionaire's predictions comes true; the Government wants a piece of the action in order to give certain VIPs preferred status. Government money doubles the facility again, bringing a host of new characters and overwhelming paperwork. The local Government agent, Jane Ormond, becomes the doctor's soul mate.

Then the second of Doctor Visionaire's predictions comes true; the bad guy appears. A renegade CIA man worms his way into Spruce Valley to search out the real source

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 18, 1999
• ISBN: 9781462814008

Andrew DeQuasie

Andrew Dequasie's day job has been chemical engineering. His previously published works include: THIRSTY - a humorous western novel. THE GREEN FLAME - an autobiographical non-fiction account of a rocket fuel project. THE SPRUCE VALLEY MIRACLE - an earth-bound science fiction novel. THE CROSSROADS TIME - a coming-of-age western novel. A LIFETIME NATURE WALK - a non-fiction book of nature essays

Book preview

Copyright © 1999 by Andrew Dequasie.

Library of Congress Control Number:       99-90813

ISBN:         Hardcover                               0-7388-0536-X

                  Softcover                                 0-7388-0537-8

                  Ebook                                     9781462814008

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

This book is dedicated to my wife, Clara. There is really

very little that is separable in a good marriage.

Try as we may, one can’t truthfully say what

would have been accomplished without the other.

CHAPTER 1

The Doctor’s Game

Mr. Thorndyke pulled his rented car over to the side of a narrow macadam road in the Adirondacks of New York State. His Spruce Valley facility was below and to the East, basking in the late afternoon sun. Taking a pair of binoculars from his briefcase, he spent a patient fifteen minutes inspecting the buildings, grounds, and people below. He did not know what he was looking for, exactly, and he found nothing out of place.

Replacing the binoculars, he took a small tape recorder from an inside pocket of his suit jacket and spoke into the microphone. Twenty June; fourth biannual unannounced inspection of our Spruce Valley facility since the advent of Doctor Earnest Visionaire as Superintendant. Approach via back road. Visual inspection satisfactory. Arrival to coincide with evening meal.

He said it with the accents and crisp assurance of an English Army officer, which he had been during the second World War. Seeing him now, one might imagine him as the brilliant tactician scanning the battlefield and planning the countermoves that would win the day.

But Theodore Thorndyke had not been that kind of officer. He had been a quartermaster, skilled in seeing to it that the front line people had what they needed when they needed it. And, when the war ended, he had found that he, himself, was in oversupply. War surplus at age 22. He had given it a great deal of thought, confident that a man who knew the logistics of supply and demand could find a profitable use for that talent. And now, all these many years later, he felt secure in having made the right choices.

He was now in full command of The Thorndyke Corporation, engaged in the operation of a chain of rest homes, setting standards of comfort, efficiency, and economy that the average senior citizen could admire and afford.

The unannounced inspection was Mr. Thorndyke’s way of assuring that his quality standards would be maintained. But the inspections at Spruce Valley were frustrating indeed. Doctor Visionaire was always ready for inspection; as ready as if he had been tipped off. Yet, no tip-off was possible. Only Mr. Thorndyke himself knew when and where he would strike. And he travelled by different routes each time. True, he had never known of a surprise inspection in the Quartermaster Corps that was not tipped in advance. The lower echelons always saw to that. But there, the inspecting officers didn’t really care. So what if the men did bust their tails preparing for a surprise inspection they were not supposed to know about? The main objectives of the officers were accomplished and the men could feel as if they had beaten the system.

That was not Mr. Thorndyke’s way. He wanted to see each facility as it really was. And, most of all, he wanted to discover just exactly what Doctor Earnest Visionaire was up to.

He had been reluctant to hire Doctor Visionaire in the first place. The man did not fit. You advertise for someone to run a rest home and you hope to find some level-headed, stable, person with a good business head and a modicum of health-care background of some sort. With luck, you might get a semi-retired doctor. But you do not expect to get a doctor in his thirties with good, solid, geriatric experience, the bedside manner of a mother hen, the charisma of an evangelist, and a total lack of horror at the low pay offered.

That had been the first turn-off Mr. Thorndyke had used; the low pay. But Doctor Visionaire had just smiled pleasantly, said, Fine! and went right on describing his qualifications.

Then, only half seriously, Mr. Thorndyke had told Doctor Visionaire that he would have to agree to serve a minimum of one year and give a minimum of two months notice if he decided to quit. Doctor Visionaire had promptly agreed to that too and it had been necessary to back off and leave it as a gentlemen’s agreement. A time commitment like that could be a double-edged sword in writing.

It was strange. The world held a wide range of far greater opportunities for such as Doctor Visionaire. Still, there are a lot of odd ducks in this world. That’s one of the facts a quartermaster learns early in his career.

So Doctor Visionaire had been accepted as head man at the Spruce Valley facility nearly two years ago. And the results had been strange indeed. Perfection!

Now, perfection is a noble ideal. One does not question that. It is something to reach for, something to test the best that is in us. But the actual attainment of perfection! That is something different. The experienced eye takes a long and searching look at perfection, ignoring the sales hype and ballyhoo to seek the flaws that are surely there.

Mr. Thorndyke put the tape recorder away and drove down to the Spruce Valley entrance. Passing through the stone-pillared gateway, he drove under the wrought iron arch with its motto, May you live forever.

All of his facilities had the same gateway. It was the sort of frill that would be expensive except for the magic of quantity purchase. And he did not really see it because he had seen it so often.

He parked in the first spot he came to and made a bee-line for the side door. Excellent! He would be inside before his presence was noticed! But then the door ahead of him opened and Mrs. Van Der—something-or-other—came out. Why Mr. Thorndyke! she exclaimed, blocking the walkway, What a pleasure to see you again!

Yes, yes! A pleasure to see you again, too, I’m sure, Mr. Thorndyke answered, jockeying for a way around her.

My goodness! You’re looking trim and healthy! Mrs. Van Der Rose gushed. Younger every day!

Yes, yes! You too! Younger every day! Please excuse me, won’t you? I really must go, Mr. Thorndyke said, abandoning the side door approach and taking the walkway leading to the front door.

Drat! Most likely a delaying tactic, Mr. Thorndyke thought. The front door was wider. If they tried to block that, he would jolly well bull his way through!

But there was no impediment at the front door. He entered and went straight to the cafeteria, where he took a tray, dishes, and tableware, and proceeded to sample everything being served. The people manning the serving pots recognized him immediately and greeted him with smiles and courtesy. No surprise there; his photo graced the cover of all of the monthly newsletters at his facilities, along with a mailing address where his customers could contact him personally.

He approached a table with a vacant seat and was welcomed by the three residents already there. The conversation was mundane, but cheerful. The food would take no top prizes, but was of the honorable mention variety.

As a matter of fact, this inspection was much like the previous three. If something was wrong, he could not quite grasp what it was. He heard no complaints of any consequence from any of the residents. They seemed a cheerful lot. Indeed, one of the residents at his table made a point of describing the delightful surprise birthday party Dr. Visionaire had arranged for her only the day before.

With keen, furtive observation of the residents manning the serving pots and such, Mr. Thorndyke could see that none of them were incompetents; granted a paying job out of pity. That was the most common fault Mr. Thorndyke had to cope with at his other facilities. On the one hand, it was desireable to allow some residents to earn part or all of their keep. On the other hand, such in-house jobs were never to be given to those too feeble or otherwise incompetent to perform them well.

So far, Dr. Visionaire’s administration had a perfect score. After dinner, Mr. Thorndyke took a stroll through the building and around the grounds, finding there none of the errors and minor horrors he was sure to find at his other facilities. Sure, he could make up ‘errors’. He could claim that there were too many or too few flowers on the grounds or that the arts and crafts activities were being overdone or underdone.

That would be the Army way; find fault or invent it. But that was not Mr. Thorndyke’s way. There were some things in his army experience that he did not admire and would not emulate. If Dr. Visionaire were doing a perfect job, then, by God, his report would say so.

Having seen all there was to be seen, he stopped by the front desk and asked for Dr. Visionaire. It was after six o’clock and Dr. Visionaire had every right to be off on his own business, but he was still at work in his office. Mr. Thorndyke went in and closed the door.

You hadn’t heard that I was here, eh? Mr. Thorndyke asked.

Oh, yes! I heard! Dr. Visionaire laughed. Several of our residents rushed the word to me the moment they laid eyes on you!

And you didn’t feel obliged to be my tour guide?

Frankly, Sir, I felt that you might prefer to look around on your own. I had the feeling the last time you were here that I couldn’t help you find whatever you were looking for.

Mr. Thorndyke locked eyes with Dr. Visionaire for a moment, then smiled and sat down wearily in the chair next to Dr. Visionaire’s before saying, Earnest, Old Chap, what the devil are you really up to?

Dr. Visionaire smiled that warm, friendly smile of his and answered, Well, right now, I’m up to Mr. Sunderland in checking medications.

Oh, come, come, Old Chap, you can answer more directly than that, Mr. Thorndyke cajoled. "And call me Theodore, won’t you?

Well, Sir,—Theodore, would you care to go over the books now? Dr. Visionaire asked.

Negative, Mr. Thorndyke answered with a sigh. "They’ll be as bloody perfect as everything else here, I’m sure. I had a look at your computer records before leaving headquarters. All in order. Nothing out of place. Nothing ever out of place. Frankly, you amaze me.

You sound tired, Theodore. How long has it been since you’ve had a physical?

It would have been an irritating question except for the calm compassion in Dr. Visionaire’s expression and tone.

Annually, Earnest, annually. I’m as fit as any man of seventy-six can hope to be, thank you. I must be off now. Keep up the good work, he said, rising.

Dr. Visionaire sprang to his feet to walk as far as the car with Mr. Thorndyke. They could have been mistaken for father and son or grandfather and son walking down the hall together. Dr. Visionaire, at something over six feet, was distinctly taller, leaner, and darker than the older man, but that’s common between the present and older generations, and his solicitude and deference to the older man completed the kinship illusion.

A man like you; you ought to be raising a family, Mr. Thorndyke said.

I expect you’re right, Dr. Visionaire answered. Just haven’t met the right lady yet.

Aha! Yes! There’s a lot to that! Well, I hope you find her, Old Chap! Once, however briefly, is so much better than never!

You’re married, Sir—Theodore?

Yes. Wonderful girl, my Ellie. Found her too late, though. No children possible. That’s something we both regret deeply. Very deeply. A lifetime passes so swiftly, Earnest! But, I expect you’re too young to know that, Mr. Thorndyke said, shaking hands briefly with Dr. Visionaire before getting into his car.

Bye! See you again, the doctor called out as the car left and Mr. Thorndyke waved in answer.

Mr. Thorndyke headed toward the distant airport at Albany, New York, but pulled over at a vacant rest stop some twenty miles from the Spruce Valley facility to record the results of his inspection. It was a detailed report which included the resident who blocked him, intentionally or not, at the side door; the nature and quality of the evening meal; the number, attitude, and competence of the staff; a description of the grounds and a nearly verbatim record of his talk with Dr. Visionaire. In closing, he noted that he had elected to adopt a closer relationship with Dr. Visionaire, but had no indication yet as to whether it would be a more fruitful approach or not.

That was as much time as Mr. Thorndyke could allow for the Spruce Valley facility of The Thorndyke Corporation during the rest of June and all of July, which he spent duty-bound to his headquarters desk in Atlanta, Ga.

The thing that brought it to his attention again was Miss Hanford’s hysterical giggling over a single matter-of-fact line in the August report from Spruce Valley. Miss Alice Winterborn, she giggled, age eighty-one,—ha, ha, ha,—is—Oh, this is the greatest! Ha, ha, ha,—with child—hee, hee, hee—and expected to deliver—ha, ha, ha,—in January! Ha, ha, ha!

Let me see that! Mr. Thorndyke cried, snatching the report away from Miss Hanford. Good Lord! he muttered, and retreated into his office.

Miss Alice Winterborn! She was one of the residents he had shared the evening meal with during the June inspection. And she was the one who had been so pleased at the surprise birthday party Dr. Visionaire had arranged for her. Eighty-one! Yes, she had said so herself and he had said that she didn’t look it. And she didn’t! Not by half!

Good God Almighty! How had he been so dense? The one, big, fat, glaring, clue he had missed at Spruce Valley! There weren’t any old people there! At least, there weren’t any who looked old!

Miss Hanford! Are you there? he barked into the intercom.

Sir? she answered.

Book me to Albany, New York on the first available plane!

CHAPTER 2

Pandora’s Box

It was almost ten o’clock the next morning when Mr. Thorndyke, wearing a smug smile, entered Dr. Visionaire’s office and closed the door. Dr. Visionaire looked up and returned the smile. Have a seat, Theodore, he invited.

Mr. Thorndyke sat down in a rather deliberate and ceremonious fashion, then said, The last time I was here, Earnest, Old Chap, I asked you what you were up to and you evaded the question.

Shall I have coffee or tea sent in, Theodore? the doctor asked.

Neither, Old Chap, what I would much rather do, if it’s all the same to you, is to discuss why all of your residents appear so fit and how you managed to get Miss Winterborn pregnant.

Miss Winterborn’s pregnancy— Dr. Visionaire began, with a hopeless wave of his hands,— Well, it’s an embarrassment, all right.

I should rather think so, Mr. Thorndyke nodded.

Am I correct in assuming that you are as eager to keep it out of the newspapers as I am? Dr. Visionaire asked.

You may assume that I will cooperate with you if you will cooperate with me, Earnest, Mr. Thorndyke answered.

Dr. Visionaire hesitated, then said, Well, I suppose the evidence is too strong to deny. As you can see, I’ve found a way to halt the aging process. Better yet, the treatment turns back the body’s clock to that physical peak that normally occurs in the late twenties or early thirties.

"Good Lord! It’s really true then? I thought so, and yet I dared not think so! Simply amazed that I didn’t tumble to your little project sooner! How did you ever hope to keep it a secret from me?

Quite easily if I had stuck to my original plan, the doctor answered. I thought I’d just selectively treat a few of the shy, quiet, solitary individuals who tend to go unnoticed in a crowd. But then I got to feeling sorry for this one, that one, and another one. And, by the time I’d started half of them on the treatment, I felt it was wrong to discriminate against the other half.

Just a moment, Old Chap, Mr. Thorndyke cautioned. Let me get this straight; what have you told your patients about this treatment?

Nothing, really. It amounts to nothing more than implanting a tiny, slow-dissolving pellet in the arm and adding a booster about six months later. I tell them it’s a vaccination.

Come, come, now! These residents surely know that something dramatic has happened to them! What do you tell them when the gray disappears and their hair grows back and the wrinkles fade away and their teeth come back and the arthritis is gone?

The teeth wouldn’t come back unless I took them back to childhood. And the arthritis doesn’t go away completely. It’s not a cure-all.

Blast it all, man! You know what I mean! When granny starts looking like her grand-daughter, what do you tell her?

The water here at Spruce Valley comes from a spring. It’s not what I’d call a mineral spring, but the residents have gotten the notion that it’s some kind of fountain of youth.

Aha! They’ve gotten that notion, have they? Very convenient, I’m sure.

I take the breaks as I find them, Dr. Visionaire said. Lord knows, I’m grateful.

Yes, yes, I’m sure you are, Mr. Thorndyke said, with his voice trailing off to a near-whisper as he lapsed into thought and fell silent for a while. Awkward as it was, Dr. Visionaire held his silence too, darting an occasional glance at Mr. Thorndyke to try to devine what was on the man’s mind.

Just two tiny pellets, implanted about six months apart, eh? Mr. Thorndyke said, then added, How long does it take to get back to the physical peak?

About a year, generally. Sometimes longer. It can’t be rushed.

It can’t, eh? Are you just being cautious, or do you know that beyond question?

It’s as certain as death and taxes.

You proved it out on someone?

Myself.

Mr. Thorndyke’s jaw went slack a moment, then he said, Yes, you would, wouldn’t you? You’re that sort of chap.

I take that as a compliment, Dr. Visionaire responded. Thank you!

"Yes, yes, a compliment, to be sure! But then,—Just how old are