“I’m not sure what I believe anymore,” Joss said, unable to control the tremor in her voice.
“I’m sorry, Joss.”
Joss finished her drink. “Don’t be. We all make our choices. Are you ready to head back to the hotel?”
The tenderness in Sarah’s eyes nearly undid Joss. She turned away and reached for their coats.
Chapter Thirteen
Sarah tightened her grip on the oversized portfolio case, which today contained half a dozen of her eleven-by-sixteen sketches, three smaller sketchbooks and an assortment of charcoal pencils. She’d also crammed into it an instruction manual for kids on how to draw. She was nervous, although not because she was meeting the budding artist whose young life hung in the balance, but because this was Joss’s domain. The hospital was a world Sarah knew little about and in which she didn’t belong.
When she rounded the corner leading to the room to which she’d been directed, she found Joss leaning against the wall, looking relaxed yet completely alert to everything around her. Her perfectly combed hair, her starched scrubs all seemed to brook no nonsense. She was a woman supremely confident in her abilities and in her authority. Not that anything about the working Joss surprised Sarah, but it threw her for a moment. A sudden smile from Joss let her know that she was the same old Joss Sarah had begun to know and care for.
“Hi,” Joss said. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
“Glad to be of help. If you think it will help, that is.”
Joss winked. “Oh, I think it will help in more ways than one. Come on in and meet Roxi.”
The little girl, stick thin, lay under a cotton sheet on her bed, reading a Wonder Woman comic book.
“Hi, Roxi,” Joss said. “Wonder Woman. Excellent choice, she’s my favorite too. How are you feeling today?”
“Okay. Is this the artist lady you told me about?”
“It sure is, sweetie. This is my friend Sarah.”
Sarah stepped forward, set her case down and shook Roxi’s delicate hand. Her veins ran through her translucent skin like tiny blue spiderwebs. “I’m so pleased to meet you, Roxi. Thank you for agreeing to spending some time with me.”
Roxi’s smile was tentative, but she tossed her comic book aside and sat up straighter. “Are you a real artist?”
“Yup. I hear you are too.”
The little girl’s frown was so deep, it was in danger of leaving permanent creases. “No. I’m just a kid.”
“But you’re going to be an artist one day, isn’t that right?”
Roxi shrugged ambiguously, but her dark eyes gleamed with pride.
Joss pushed off from the wall and moved to the door. “I’ll leave you two alone. Sarah, how about I come back for you in, say, forty-five minutes? You haven’t lived until you’ve tried the coffee in this place.”
“Really?” Sarah loved good coffee and was always on the lookout for new sources for her addiction.
Joss laughed. “No, far from it. But it was all I could think of to get you to say yes.”
“You could have just asked.”
“And you’d have said yes, even if the coffee tastes like old socks?”
Sarah grinned. “Well, let’s not get carried away.”
Joss winked and was gone.
“Is Dr. Joss your girlfriend?”
There was no judgment in Roxi’s expression or tone, only intelligent curiosity.
“Hmm. Sort of but not really.”
Roxi shrugged. “Okay.”
If only adults would be satisfied with such a nonanswer, Sarah thought wistfully. She unzipped the portfolio case and handed a sketchbook and a charcoal pencil to Roxi. “Want to draw with me?”
Roxi beamed and eagerly accepted the sketchbook and pencil from Sarah.
“Show me what you can do, kiddo.”
* * *
“So,” Joss said, setting Sarah’s coffee on the table in front of her. “What’d you think of Roxi?”
“Sweet kid. Bright too. And you’re right, she’s bursting with talent.”
“Were you like that when you were her age?” Joss found herself picturing Sarah at nine, with her flaming red hair and big blue eyes, china doll skin and faint freckles. She imagined Sarah soaking in everything around her like a sponge, committing it all to memory and then retreating to a quiet place to draw or paint it.
“Pretty much, though not as shy.” She sipped her coffee and made a face. “Okay, you weren’t kidding when you compared this stuff to old socks. Yuck.”
“Sorry. I’d invite you up to my office where I have a Keurig, but the walls around here have ears. And eyes.”
Sarah leaned closer and narrowed her eyes. “And what would the walls of your office be hearing and seeing, exactly?”
Joss exhaled in relief. They were back to flirting, and it made her slightly dizzy. Chicago had been an emotional roller coaster. Kissing, fighting, making out, fighting, intense conversations. Spending time with Sarah was never boring, and while sometimes it drove her nuts, mostly it kindled a low, pleasurable flame in the pit of her stomach. The kind that made her want more, even though she knew such a thing was impossible.
Most days, she was okay with that. More precisely, the days she didn’t kiss Sarah. On the days she did kiss Sarah, all hell broke loose inside her.
“I suppose they would be hearing and seeing that we were enjoying each other’s company,” Joss said innocently, refusing to share with Sarah the lusty fantasy taking shape in her mind of playing doctor with her.
To Joss’s relief, Sarah didn’t respond. They could only go so far before things heated up between them, and once that happened, they were limited to two directions—erupting into hurt feelings and frustration or taking their relationship to a deeper physical realm. Neither scenario was working so well for them. Time to back off, Joss reminded herself.
“About Roxi,” Sarah said, her eyes moistening. “Is she going to die without a new heart soon?”
“I’m afraid so.” Joss had never really learned how to paper over the losses that were inevitable in her line of work and the sadness that accompanied them. In her opinion, good doctors didn’t. But the trick, she’d figured out early in her residency, was not to let the losses paralyze you with doubt or hopelessness. Sometimes there were things to learn from them and sometimes there weren’t. Sometimes shit happened that was absolutely not fair and not right and were not your fault. You could drive yourself nuts trying to make order out of the randomness of the universe, and many times Joss had done exactly that, to no avail.
“I guess if a new heart arrives in time, it will be at the cost of someone else’s loss. It’s a tragic irony, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Joss agreed. “One family’s devastation will be another family’s gift. But it’s better than two tragedies.”
Sarah looked lost in thought, her mouth turned down in sadness. Joss wished she had something witty to say, something that would make her smile.
“So tell me how your art session went with her.”
Sarah brightened, and Joss felt a corresponding lifting of her heart. She was so damned physically attuned to Sarah, it was crazy. And scary. Was this what it was like to want someone else’s happiness more than your own? To care more about what they were feeling? Joss resisted analyzing her feelings any deeper than that because there was no point to it, she reminded herself.
“Roxi was like a sponge, so eager to learn from me. I gave her a sketchbook, and I’ll bet it’s filled by the time I come back to see her the day after tomorrow.”
“I’m so glad you’ll come back to visit her.” Joss knew that Sarah wasn’t feeling very optimistic or inspired about her own work lately. She hoped that her sessions with Roxi would be a two-way street in the reward department. “What will you guys do then, more sketches?”
Sarah thought for a moment. “I think I’d like to get her painting. Watercolors or acrylics. Do you think the hospital will object to me turning her room into a little art studio?”
“Not if I have anything to say about it. My friend Nancy is her doctor, and I know she’ll be pleased.”
“I wish Roxi were well enough to take to a gallery. She’d love that.”
“I think that should be the first thing you do with her if she gets a new heart.”
“That’s a deal I would love to keep. But there is something that bothers me.” Sarah had begun clasping and unclasping her hands in her lap. “I like this kid, Joss. I want to help her. But what if I grow attached to her and she…” Something crumpled in Sarah’s eyes.
“Dies?”
Sarah swallowed. “Yes. How do you deal with that? I mean, what do you do at the end of the day when a patient you care about dies?”
There was no easy answer Joss could give that would make Sarah feel better. Death was something you worked hard to avoid in this business, that you fought against by using every ounce of your training, your experience and your best judgment. And sometimes it wasn’t enough. “You go on and you help other patients you care about.”
“That simple, huh?” Sarah looked unconvinced.
“Yes and no. It can be that simple—has to be—if you want to stay sane and keep doing what you’re doing. But it isn’t always easy.”
They sipped their coffees, Joss contemplating whether to tell Sarah that her mother would be at next weekend’s Christmas fundraiser. The event was the hospital’s biggest annual fundraising event and one that Madeline hadn’t attended since Joss’s father had died. Now, however, her mother was on a mission and that mission was to meet Sarah and observe the two of them together. Madeline had acted boastful when she’d told Joss about her plans, almost as if daring her to try to keep her away. Joss, of course, didn’t need that epic battle.
“Um, I have to confess something to you, Sarah.”
“Am I going to need something stronger than this coffee first?”
“Maybe, but unfortunately they don’t serve mint juleps here.”
“Well, there is that sorry fact.”
“The big Christmas fundraiser for the hospital next weekend?”
“Yes?”
“My mother insists on coming.”
“Well, that makes sense, given your father’s position here for so many years.”
“Yes, but her motives aren’t entirely altruistic. She wants to meet you. And spy on us together. And Lord knows what.”
Sarah laughed. “What does she hope to see?”
“A wife for me and grandchildren someday for her,” Joss mumbled so low that Sarah had to ask her to repeat herself. “Never mind. She’s being a busybody, that’s all.”
“I look forward to meeting your mother. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Some of her questions might be a little uncomfortable.” The truth was, the questions probably would be uncomfortable for Joss, not Sarah.
“That’s all right. I can handle a nosy mother. What I’m not looking forward to is having to put up with my father.”
“Your father will be there?”
“Yes, Daddy and Linda are going. Linda helps the foundation occasionally with PR work, and Daddy likes to go so he can try to drum up business for his law firm.”
Joss sighed. “So we’ll be under two sets of microscopes, in other words.”
“Looks like it, although I don’t think Daddy knows a thing about you. I don’t suppose we can wear disguises? Or opt out of going altogether?”
“Afraid not. On the other hand, it’s an open bar for hospital staff and their escorts, if that helps.”
“That may be the evening’s only saving grace.”
“Would you like a tour of where I work?”
Sarah perked up. “I’d love to see where you work.”
“Deal. But only if you show me your studio sometime.”
“It won’t be nearly as exciting as your workplace, but I think I can handle that.”
Joss smiled. “Good. Let’s go take a walk. Oh, one more thing,” she said as they pushed their chairs back and stood. “Speaking of my mother, she’s in Knoxville for a few days. I have to be her stand-in at the city’s annual community foundation announcement day after tomorrow. It’s where they announce the recipients of about ten-million-dollars worth of grants.”
“Let me guess, the McNab Foundation is a contributor to the fund?”
“Yes, a large contributor. It’s late notice and you don’t have to come. I just thought…” She wasn’t at all interested in spending an hour or two of glad-handing and making idle chitchat with mostly strangers. Functions outside the medical sphere were the worst, and if Sarah came, she would at least make it tolerable.
“I can make it.”
“You’re sure? You don’t need to be working in your studio or something?”
“I’m sure. And my work can wait.”
There was something unreadable in Sarah’s eyes at the mention of her work, but Joss let it go. “Ready for that tour?”
“Now?”
“Most of the ORs should be idle this late in the day. Come on.”
Chapter Fourteen
Sarah knew something was wrong the minute she spotted Joss inside the city’s massive, sparkling new convention center. There were bags under her eyes, which were glassy and red-rimmed, and she couldn’t raise a smile when Sarah greeted her. She looked like shit.
“What’s wrong?” Sarah whispered urgently. They were standing in one of the large ballrooms with its massive floor-to-ceiling glass walls. Waiters in tuxedos flitted among the crowd like butterflies zipping from flower to flower, carrying trays of tea, coffee, soft drinks and tiny bite-sized cakes of various flavors and brightly colored textures. The funding announcement, which comprised quite a long list of recipients, Sarah noticed in the program book, would begin momentarily.
Joss shook her head, and something in the simple gesture broke Sarah’s heart.
Sarah’s hand crept up to her mouth. “Oh, God, is your mother okay?”
“She’s fine.”
The mayor of Nashville, who was serving as emcee, took the podium and, once the room quieted, began his welcoming remarks.
“Do you have to give a speech?” Sarah whispered.
Joss shook her head.
“Then let’s get out of here.”
Joss protested, but only mildly, when Sarah took her hand and began leading her through the crowd and out of the packed room.
“Did you drive or take a cab?”
“Cab,” Joss said, and Sarah wondered if she was ill.
Moments later, Sarah had hailed a cab and instructed the driver to take them back to her apartment. She didn’t want to get to the bottom of things until they had privacy.
“What are you doing?” Joss said from beside her in the backseat. The traffic was light and the cab sailed through the downtown streets and onto the expressway.
“Taking you back to my place.”
“Why?” Her eyes had gone blank, as if a curtain had been drawn across them, and it frightened Sarah.
“Humor me, Joss. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”
Joss turned away to look out the window. Whatever had happened to put her in this state, it might take some heavy lifting to get her out of it, it occurred to Sarah. But she was prepared to do whatever it took because she’d never seen Joss this vulnerable before, this shaken.
Lauren was at work, Sarah explained as they took the stairs to her second-floor apartment. Joss moved with the stiff gait of someone who’d been kicked in the ribs.
“Tea or coffee?” Sarah asked. “Or something stronger?”
“I don’t need anything,” Joss replied, sitting down heavily at the kitchen table for two. “I don’t know why you brought me here. I’m terrible company. I’ll walk home.” She made no move to rise.
“You’ll do nothing of the kind.”
She poured them each a glass of bourbon—the cheap kind was all she could afford to keep in stock—and set a glass down in front of Joss.
She took the chair opposite. �
�Talk to me, Joss.”
Joss closed her eyes tightly for a moment, exhaustion revealing itself in deep lines around her mouth, her eyes. The shake of her head was almost imperceptible.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
Joss finally took a long sip of her drink. There was a tiny tremble in her fingers that was startling in its rarity. The accomplished surgeon didn’t ever tremble, didn’t lose control, didn’t cry, Sarah had convinced herself.
“I don’t need your sympathy. Or whatever it is you’re offering.”
Ouch, Sarah thought. It wasn’t like Joss to verbally try to bruise her this way. “I want to help and I intend to help, whether you welcome it or not. And I’m not stopping this inquisition until you tell me what’s happened.”
“You sound exactly like my mother,” Joss said. She finished off her drink in one long swallow.
“Good.” Sarah’s temper was beginning a slow burn.
“No,” Joss said, reaching for the bottle of Jim Beam and topping up her glass. “I don’t need a second mother, or a…a…”
“Wife? Is that what you were going to say? Well, too late.”
Joss’s laughter was full of derision. “It’s not in your job description to try to take care of me. By design.”
“Oh, I see. The great Joss McNab doesn’t need anyone to lean on, is that it? Well, it looks to me like that’s not working so well right now.”
Joss took another long sip of her drink. “This is exactly what I didn’t want.”
“What?” Sarah fumed at Joss’s stubbornness.
“You caring about me this way. And me needing…”
“Needing some emotional support once in a while? Jesus, Joss, what the hell is wrong with that?”
The alcohol had begun to infuse Joss’s eyes with a dull sheen. “I live my life the way I want to, Sarah. I do what I want, go where I want, work as hard as I want, and I don’t demand anything of anybody else. I can take care of myself. It’s best this way. It’s the way I want it.”
By Mutual Consent Page 11