Doctor's Orders Box Set (Babies in the Bargain, Right Name, Wrong Man, No More Lies)

by Risk, Mona

  “Oh my God, you’re describing my life.” Mary-Beth’s throat tightened as an image from the past popped into her mind—herself in loose clothes, nibbling, munching, eating non-stop, and then crying her heart out as the pounds loaded on her hips and belly. “I never went to a prom or a dance. I lost my parents in a plane crash at thirteen. My sister Kate was only eighteen when she became my guardian. We stayed in my parents’ house. Money was never an issue. Dad left us a big trust. When I went to college, Kate joined a convent.”

  “Oh, she’s a nun? What about you? Where did you go?” Her friend asked, her eyes focused on her the road.

  “I lived in the dorms. And later at the hospital. The few people I know are at Harvard and Mass General.”

  “I’m sorry.” Jennifer offered her a sympathetic smile.

  “How did you lose weight?” It felt so good to find a soul sister.

  “I joined a weight loss center. It took me six months on protein and veggies to drop almost fifty kilos. How did you do it? ”

  “I diet and kept a journal. I had no choice. At twenty-eight I looked like a balloon and my blood pressure was skyrocket-high. My general practitioner scared the hell out of me.”

  “Oh my god, we have so much in common. I wish I could stay, but I’ve already spent too much time away from Greg,” Jennifer added.

  “Greg?”

  “My boyfriend. I miss him.” She patted Mary-Beth’s hand. “I’m sure you understand. You are in an even worse situation. Engaged and away from your love.”

  “Yes, of course.” Mary-Beth averted her eyes to the side of the road spotted with red poppies. “But my fiancé is the Director of Surgery who organized the exchange program with Dr. Malroux, so he agreed I would greatly benefit from this training.”

  “Director? Wow, how old is he? Oh, I shouldn’t have asked.” Jennifer crouched in her seat. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. He’s fifty-five. I’m not hiding that he’s older than me. They say, opposites attract, right?”

  “I see.” Jennifer winked. “You fell in love with your mentor. How romantic.”

  “Steve is a decent man. I have never seen him flirting with other women.” Mary-Beth stroked her ringless finger. The big diamond lay in its velvet box, safely stowed in Steve’s safe. Romantic wasn’t the word she’d use to describe her relationship with her fiancé. More like practical and comfortable. “He loves me and spoils me. He’s so reliable.”

  “Reliable?” Jennifer sent Mary-Beth an inquisitive glance. “But…you love him?”

  “Of course, I love him, and I respect and admire him too. I know he’ll be the perfect husband, gentle and caring, calm and composed. With him there won’t be any tension, or nasty surprises, or—”

  “Or… magic?” Jennifer suggested with a soft voice.

  “I don’t need magic.” The magical dreams she had about Yves had broken her heart. “A few years ago, I had trouble coping with loneliness and abandonment. Thanks to Steve, I outgrew both lousy feelings.”

  “What about love, I mean real love that makes you do crazy things, what about passion?” Her eyes round, Jennifer looked at her as if she’d grown two horns on her head.

  “No, thanks. I don’t want that.” Mary-Beth tapped the dashboard with firm hands. “With Steve, there won’t be crazy passion and heartbreak.”

  “Why would there be heartbreak?” Jennifer’s head tilted toward her. “Oh sweetie, someone broke your heart. Is that why you are marrying your old mentor?”

  “Let’s not talk about that, please.”

  “Sure. So are you getting married soon?”

  Mary-Beth nodded. “As soon as I get back.”

  “Are you done with all the wedding preparation?”

  “Umm… we will have a very intimate ceremony.”

  “Ah, on an island?”

  “No, at the hospital chapel. And later, we will host a dinner with the hospital staff.”

  “Don’t be offended if I ask why…” Jennifer lifted a puzzled eyebrow. “I’m not good at tactful questions. What on earth are you doing here instead of enjoying your engagement? It should be such a special time, no?”

  “Of course, it is.” Mary-Beth gritted her teeth. “Something happened.” Jennifer gave her a knowing look. “No, no, we didn’t fight or argue. It has nothing to do with Steve. I came here to find out …something. You see?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Damn it, I don’t know, Jennifer, I don’t know what’s the right thing to do. Steve is such a wonderful man.”

  “Oh love, don’t torture yourself. You have three months here to assess your feelings and decide whether you are making the right decision. Anyway, we’ve arrived at the hospital.” Jennifer parked her car, turned off the ignition key and hugged her.

  “Too bad you’re leaving so soon.”

  “I have to.” A wicked smile curled Jennifer’s lips. “I need to convince Greg that he loves me to death and wants to marry me, before someone else snatches him. He’s so handsome, and charming, and funny. Never a dull moment with him.”

  “Really?” Mary-Beth said with a tinge of envy. “Aren’t you afraid he might cheat on you or dump you, or—”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  Mary-Beth shook her head. “I took my chances once and I got stung so badly. Can’t do that anymore. I’d rather not play with fire.”

  In the OR, Mary-Beth’s angst melted away and she seemed to breathe better after two difficult surgeries.

  “Dr. Malroux, à l’urgence. Dr. Malroux,” the loud speaker boomed a few hours later as she reached the nurses’ station to check the schedule board one more time.

  Yves rushed out of his office. “We have an emergency. Come.”

  Midway down the corridor, they met nurses running with a gurney. “The ambulance just brought him in. The man has been shot,” one of the nurses muttered. “Salle d’opération 6.”

  Yves glanced at the patient on the gurney. “That’s André, the clerk who works at the local bank. What happened?” he asked Josephine who held a patient chart.

  “The police said that André was shot by his girl-friend’s estranged husband who had refused to give her a divorce. The husband still had a key to his apartment. He came back unexpectedly, found them in bed, and lost his head. This is the first time we have such a thing in our peaceful area. The police have yet to find the criminal who is assumed to be hiding in the area. He is armed and dangerous, but it’s a crime passionel.” Josephine nodded with understanding as if that big feeling called passion excused the crime.

  Mary-Beth’s thoughts flew to her distinguished fiancé. No blazing fire here. Steve would never kill a rival. Would he even fight to keep her?

  Did she want him to fight for her? To prove he felt passion? No, but… Her morning chat with Jennifer had shaken her more than she cared to admit.

  Meanwhile, Yves scowled at the growing blotch of blood on the patient’s right side. “Hurry up. He’s bleeding profusely. We need to extract the bullet from his chest.”

  Carlos and Roberto met them in the pre-op room, excitement shining in their eyes. “If you don’t mind, Dr. Malroux, I’d really like to do the extraction,” Carlos asked. “Roberto will assist. It’s not every day we have a bullet wound.”

  “No problem.” Yves shrugged as he scrubbed.

  The sight of this patient’s suffering because of passion stirred unease in Mary-Beth’s mind. A shudder raced down her spine. Forget passion. More than ever she appreciated Steve’s gentle affection. “I’ll watch and assist if you need me.”

  They prepped, scrubbed and entered the OR room.

  “Dr. Malroux, the patient is ready,” the anesthetist announced a moment later.

  “Very good. Dr. Lopez, you may proceed.”

  Luckily the lead had hit a rib and smoothly deflected down. The operation was not difficult. Yves glanced at the clock on the wall. “Dr. Marcoli, keep working with Dr. Lopez. I don’t expect any complications at this point. Page me if
you need me.” He turned toward Mary-Beth. “Dr. Drake, please follow me.”

  Mary-Beth followed him to the ER without questions or comments. Not that she minded the training, but how could she have any free time when Dr. Malroux assigned her to every other surgery in the hospital?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  In the hallway, Yves paused in front of the duty roster on the wall. Mary-Beth sorted through the surgeries, searching for her name. “Salle d’operation 4 for the stomach ablation of an obese patient,” her boss announced.

  Oh dear, she’d have to cut through an overweight woman. A dreadful period of her life still flashing before her eyes, Mary-Beth remained rooted in place. Her stomach inappropriately gurgled. She winced and pressed her hands to her midsection, hoping Yves wouldn’t notice the embarrassing noise.

  “It’s already two in the afternoon. Why don’t you go and get yourself something to eat and then join me here.”

  “I’m good,” she mumbled. Her face aflame, she fidgeted with the mask she held, dropped it, picked it up and crumpled it in her fist.

  “Something wrong?”

  “Nope.” She winced, realizing too late that her snappy voice would betray her turmoil.

  His eyebrow arched. “Sure, you don’t need to eat?”

  “I can stay till we finish this one.” Straightening, she faced him, as stiff as the board on the wall. It wasn’t hunger that snarled her insides.

  “In that case let’s go. There is no time to waste.”

  They changed and scrubbed again before entering OR 4.

  “She’s ready,” the anesthesiologist said and a nurse removed the tent-like sheet covering a three-hundred-pound woman under full sedation.

  “Good. We can start.” Yves approached the operation table. “This patient, Sophie Marin, is thirty-one. She has diabetes as a result of the obesity. We will do an incision at the stomach level.”

  Mary-Beth remained near the door. Her eyes froze on the patient’s enormous belly, and she saw herself lying on the operation table.

  “Mary-Beth?” He turned toward her and frowned. “You look as if you have seen a ghost. You don’t know the patient, right?”

  “No, no, I don’t know her.” Hypnotized by the pregnant-size belly of a non-pregnant woman, she stared and took two steps forward.

  He touched her arm. “Are you sick?”

  God, she had to overcome her distressing feelings. The past had better stay buried. “I’m fine,” she said with a tilt of her chin to stop him from questioning her further.

  His penetrating gaze rested on her. “As physicians and surgeons, we face death on a daily basis. You have dealt with bigger traumas than obesity or even diabetes.”

  “Yes, of course. But maybe this patient had serious problems.” Mary-Beth shook her head and blinked several times to rid herself from her panic attack. “Maybe eating was her only way of coping with her problems, with her insecurities or her loneliness. Overeating results sometimes from depression.” The type of depression she’d drowned in after Yves left Boston. Despair and hopelessness made her eat and balloon almost as much as this patient.

  “Maybe you’re right. But we don’t have enough time to dwell on the reasons that led the patient to her present condition. We’d better start if we want to help her. Unless, you prefer to withdraw from this case.” His eyebrows gathered in a frown, he waited for her decision.

  Behind her mask, she inhaled and exhaled, and steeled herself against her previous weakness. “I’ll stay. I can do it.”

  “I know you can,” he said with a gentle voice. He picked up a knife from the nurse’s hand. “Here is your scalpel. Do the incision between the breastbone and the navel.”

  For three hours, she followed his instructions with slow precise gestures to minimize the bleeding.

  “Good. Now, staple the upper part of the stomach, as close as possible to the esophagus.” The nurse handed Mary-Beth a surgical stapler. Yves focused on her gloved hands as she created an upper-stomach pouch about the size of a small egg.

  “Bien, bien. Good.” His murmured words restored her inner calm. “Now we can close.” Yves turned to the anesthesiologist. “Antoine, how is she doing on your end?”

  Antoine raised a thumb. “Patient stable. BP and heartbeat regular.”

  “Good job, Dr. Drake.” Yves clapped his hand. “You’re a great surgeon. I wish I could keep you on my staff.”

  Joy invaded her heart. Operating next to Yves was a dream-come-true, and she’d helped an overweight patient regain a decent figure. “Thank you.” She nodded, struggling to keep her excitement in check. “The patient will feel full more quickly now. The smaller stomach will reduce the amount of food she eats and thus the calories consumed. Soon, she’ll be slim and pretty.”

  “She needed the surgery to save her health. The only problem…” He hesitated. “But success rates vary enormously. About 30 percent of patients achieve normal weight, while another 50 percent lose some weight, and regain it just as fast. This is because the new smaller stomach is quite elastic, and by eating larger and larger meals, patients may stretch it and increase their food intake accordingly.”

  Anxiety knotted Mary-Beth’s insides, replacing her previous triumph. Her eyes glued to the belly she had sewn, she pondered the information he’d just given her. Statistics didn’t lie. This poor woman could recover the lost weight in no time if she’d didn’t control her compulsive eating, thus ruining the surgery’s benefits and causing a new series of health problems. A wave of nausea shuddered Mary-Beth’s insides. This patient could have been Mary-Beth, if she hadn’t heeded her doctor’s orders.

  Without waiting for Yves to order the gurney rolled out to Recovery, Mary-Beth trashed her mask and gloves. “I’ll talk to her. I’ll help her and follow up. No way, I’d let her go back to where she was.”

  Her hands clutching her stomach, Mary-Beth rushed to the pre-op room, and bent over the sink to empty the bitter liquid from her stomach.

  “Mary-Beth? Are you sick?” Behind her, Yves sounded seriously worried.

  She turned on the faucet and rinsed her mouth. “I’m sorry.” Embarrassment flamed her face. “I’m better now.”

  “Did I push you too hard with four surgeries in a row?” He gently touched her shoulder. “I should have insisted you eat before performing surgery.”

  “I’m used to our hectic schedule.” Her nausea wasn’t due to a lack of food, but she couldn’t confess her stressful worries. “I should have eaten this morning.” She glanced at the door to the OR and chewed on her lip. “I hope she doesn’t put the weight back on after all she went through.”

  “Pardon?”

  “The patient. I hope she—”

  “Bon Dieu. There are more serious illnesses.” Puzzlement underlined his tone.

  “You don’t understand.” Her head swiveled toward him and she pierced him with a meaningful look. “I went through a similar ordeal.”

  “No way. You had surgery? What for, when you had a special glow many women would envy?”

  Surprise and delight flooded her at his spontaneous assessment. Was that how he saw her when she had carried so many extra pounds? Thank God, he hadn’t met her again the year after he’d left Boston. “No. Not surgery. I lost the weight on my own.”

  “You are making a big deal out of a few extra pounds.”

  “Few? Ninety pounds.” Her eyes froze wide-open as soon as she blurted the number and her cheeks burned.

  “Well, you are a woman after my own heart. Such strength of character. Such discipline. What a great success story.” He rewarded her with a smile, his face gleaming with admiration. “In a way, I’m not surprised. You seem to always achieve what you aim for.”

  Mary-Beth gave him a sidelong glance. She didn’t like the way her pulse raced whenever he paid her a compliment or the way her obtuse heart stupidly fluttered when he came close. Hadn’t she come all the way to France to make sure she’d completely forgotten him?

  “Feeling better,
Mary-Beth?” He squeezed her hand as if to impart her with his strength.

  She followed the stroke of his thumb over her knuckles. Tension eased away and comfortable warmth spread to her throat and her breasts. Covering the antiseptic smell of the prep room, the scents of his cologne and her perfume mingled and dazed her. She leaned back against the sink and shut her eyes.

  “Yves,” she whispered as a forbidden hunger gnawed at her stomach.

  “Oui?” His breath teased her forehead. “Yes?”

  Yes, what? Good Lord, was she out of her mind?

  She freed her hand and jolted away. For heaven’s sake, why was she still lingering in the scrub room? The patient had been rolled out to Recovery a while ago, and Mary-Beth would do well to get out of here. Stat.

  She glared at his chest, hating its seductive strength and her out-of-character weakness. With new determination, she steeled herself and slammed down on her emotion. “Is there another surgery scheduled for today?” she asked with a crisp tone. For once, she wished she had no more work to do.

  “We have been locked in the salles d’opération all day.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Almost five. Why don’t you give Hubert a call and ask him to pick you up? Unless you prefer to wait for me?”

  “No,” she blurted. “No, don’t worry about me,” she repeated in a softer voice, with barely controlled impatience. “I’ll call Hubert.” Yves was her boss, not her friend, not her date, and certainly not a prospective lover. Just her boss.

  “I will see you tonight for dinner.”

  “I don’t think so. I’ll grab something to eat at the cafeteria while waiting for Hubert and I’ll a good night’s sleep to recover from my nausea,” she said with a firm tone.

  His gaze darkened but a sympathetic smile curled his lips. “In that case, if I don’t see you tonight, have sweet dreams.”

  Nope. She’d rather have no dreams at all. No nightmares like the one she had last night. A nightmare where Steve and Yves dressed like pirates wrestled to snatch her from a sinking ship. And definitely not sweet dreams where Yves won and carried her away.