On A Cold Winter's Night

by Leanne Burroughs

  "Yes, I'm just a little dizzy and—"

  "Elle!” Philip hollered when her legs suddenly buckled and she fell backward. He rushed forward and wrapped his arms around her before her head struck the floor.

  Gingerly, he laid her down and patted her warm cheek, calling out her name repeatedly in hope of waking her. Spinning around a chair, he propped up her legs to aid in quickening blood flow to her brain and slipped two fingers inside the collar of her green turtleneck. He studied her ashen face while he took her pulse, noticing upon closer inspection the dark circles beneath her eyes and more prominent cheekbones indicative of weight loss.

  Worried by the slow heart rate and amount of time it was taking her to regain consciousness, he opened his mouth to shout for someone to bring in smelling salts and a gurney, but resisted the urge when her ginger-tinted eyelashes began to flutter.

  "That's it, Elle.” He stroked her cheek. “Open your eyes for me."

  A weak moan slipped through her lips and she blinked several times before finally managing to keep her silver eyes open.

  "Philip?” she whispered in evident confusion.

  "Yeah, it's me."

  "What . . . what happened?"

  * * * *

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Two

  * * * *

  "You fainted, Elle."

  Nervously, she glanced around the sparsely furnished room—a few items of furniture, vending machine, and refrigerator. She stopped when the flirtation of dizziness returned and her fuzzy memory cleared. “This is so embarrassing."

  "There's nothing to be embarrassed about. However, I believe there may be something to be concerned about."

  She focused her gaze back to Philip. Sincerity shone in his sparkling emerald eyes and locks of dark blond hair fell forward, shadowing his handsome face while he remained on the floor at her side.

  "You rest here.” He pushed himself upright, his solid, six foot frame towering above her. “I'm going to go get a gurney and then we'll get you checked out."

  "No way."

  "All right, it can be a wheelchair if you prefer."

  "No!” Elle adamantly refused. Gathering all the strength she could, she lifted her legs from the chair they were perched on.

  "Dang it, Elle, be reasonable. You lost consciousness!"

  "And so do millions of other people every single day. Little fainting episodes do not necessarily require emergency medical attention."

  "You were out for nearly a full minute and have bradycardia."

  "Both of which are quite common with syncope. I'm conscious now and my heart rate will increase."

  "If anyone other than you had abruptly fainted like that, you wouldn't be treating it so lightly and would want to look for the same answers I am."

  "You're right,” Elle conceded as she slowly sat up. “And if you're really so desperate for an answer, I'll give it to you. I'm anemic, that's why I fainted. And I'm sure having not eaten yet today didn't help matters."

  "It's almost two o'clock in the afternoon. Why the heck haven't you eaten?"

  She began to stand, reluctantly thankful when Philip lifted her arm around his neck and provided a much needed boost. “My lunch plans were interrupted by the dying man next door."

  "Then, we can have lunch together, the vending machine special.” Without waiting for her approval, he practically carried her to the couch.

  "Fine,” Elle finally agreed, more winded and weakened than she cared to acknowledge from just a few footsteps. “If you'd just hand me my purse, I'll get you some money."

  "I'll cover it. A few bucks won't push me into debt. I'm assuming apple juice and peanut butter crackers are still your favorites."

  She nodded silently, both comforted and unnerved by the sense of familiarity that still lingered between them. Leaning back into the cushions, she shut her eyes and took a deep breath. If only an awkward run-in with Philip were the least of her problems.

  The soft touch of fingers resting on her forehead and pressing against her neck prompted her to open her eyes. “You can quit treating me like a patient, Philip. You're not my doctor."

  "Maybe not, but I am your—"

  Elle sighed when he removed his hands and glanced away. The unspoken words floating in the air: What were they now, friends, acquaintances, or two people on the path to becoming strangers?

  "Your pulse is rising nicely. You're feverish, though. Have you been sick recently? I doubt the fainting was caused by one chaotic day."

  She accepted the juice and snack he held out to her. “I've been rundown. You know how it gets at this time of year in the ER."

  "Do I ever.” He sat at the end of the couch and popped a potato chip into his mouth. “It seems hard to believe there was a time I associated the holidays with church services, home cooking, decorated trees, and big guys in red suits. Now, it's synonymous with tainted eggnog and family gatherings gone wrong."

  "Last year I got puked on by a nutcracker and sugar plum fairy.” The reminder made it harder to eat the crackers in her hand. “I thought it was going to be the worst holiday of my life."

  Philip chuckled. “I remember. I could still smell it on you when I slid the ring on your finger.” He combed his fingers through his hair anxiously. “Sorry. I didn't mean to bring it up. I know you don't want to get into all this now. It just slipped."

  "I guess it's inevitable. How could we possibly avoid feeling awkward after everything that's happened?"

  "But it doesn't have to be awkward, Elle. It's not like we had one of those break-ups that could easily drive a wedge between two people forever. Neither one of us cheated, there wasn't any abuse. Sometimes, even now, I can't figure out why it fell apart."

  "The arguing,” Elle recalled in a whisper. “How could you forget the incessant arguing? We fought about everything, Philip. I can't even remember the last real conversation we had. It was all just bickering for months. First, it was going back and forth over where we should move and if we should buy or rent a home, then it was fighting about—"

  "The wedding,” he remembered aloud.

  "Yes, we didn't even agree over the basic questions! Should it be an outdoor or indoor ceremony? Traditional or untraditional? Large or small? Who should we invite?"

  "It doesn't sound as daunting now as it did a couple of months ago."

  "No, it doesn't. Actually, I'd say right now it sounds very trivial."

  "And yet it was enough to end a three-year relationship and break an engagement."

  "Philip, how could we possibly have entered a marriage together when we couldn't even find a compromise over a wedding?"

  "I suppose you have a point."

  "Let's look on the bright side. At least this time when you brought it up, I remained conscious. That's an improvement, right?"

  "Yes, a great improvement,” he concurred. “And let's try to keep it that way, regardless of the topic."

  "That sounds good to me."

  "I never could have imagined that seeing me would upset you like this, though. You really gave me a scare. If coming back here is really something you want to do, maybe I should consider putting in a transfer to another city."

  Elle smiled at him wanly, touched by the inherent kindness that had first drawn her to him years ago. When she'd unexpectedly spotted him at the front desk she'd planned to remain stern and distant to him to keep herself from reopening old wounds, but it was impossible. “I appreciate that, but it would be superfluous. We can see each other and be civil. We're adults, not junior high kids. I was just being glib earlier. Besides, I think we both know you aren't responsible for anemia, low blood sugar, or transient cerebral hypoxia."

  He flashed a lopsided grin. “Yeah, I never did have the ability to make women swoon."

  "That's not true. There were plenty of female nurses, doctors, and patients who liked catching a glimpse of you."

  "I never noticed. You were the only one I had eyes for."

  "Likewise."

/>   An uncomfortable silence fell between them that felt relentless while good and bad memories racked her brain, randomly stopped when Philip held a potato chip in front of her eyes.

  "Does this potato chip look a little like Shirley Temple to you?"

  "What?” Elle gasped, nearly spitting out the juice in her mouth from laughter. “I can't believe you just asked me that! What kind of a goofy question is that, anyway?"

  "It's a fairly serious question, because if it does look like Shirley Temple, eating it might be considered cannibalism.” He smirked when she giggled again. “Man, I've really missed hearing you laugh. You're the only person who ever thought I was funny."

  "I've missed my own laughter, too,” she confessed, “as silly as it sounds."

  "I think that's one of the parts in all this that's hardest to deal with. Not only losing someone you love, but also a friend."

  "I know. You were my best friend. I've wanted to call you so many times the last couple of weeks, hoping you hadn't changed your cell number. But I could never get myself to push the buttons."

  "Why not?"

  "I don't know. I was too afraid you might hang up, and I really didn't think I could take it if you did."

  "I wouldn't have."

  "I think somewhere deep inside I knew that, but it was a handy excuse."

  "Do you ever think things might have actually been easier if we had had a messy break-up, simple reasons to ignore one another and never look back?"

  "I guess maybe I did in the beginning, especially when my family kept asking me what went wrong. That's the reason I decided to stay in Indy, because I was so embarrassed to face them. It seems stupid now."

  "Does that mean I don't have to worry about your dad or brother coming after me to tan my hide?"

  "You know they would never do that. Besides, I'm the one who gave the ring back.” Pain squeezed her heart by the memory of shoving the ring into his palm after another heated debate about housing and wedding details.

  "And I didn't try to stop you. I just walked out and didn't even say goodbye."

  "I wondered why you didn't. That seemed so out of character for you, Philip."

  "Embarrassment. I was coming here after causing so many pointless fights about it with you. And even though it will sound juvenile, I hate goodbyes. I've seen so many people come into hospitals and say goodbye when they really don't want to that make the thought of saying ‘goodbye’ foolish when you still have time for ‘hello.’”

  "You know, only a little while ago I might have thought you were being childish and that sometimes goodbyes are best. But now, I see your point."

  "So at least there aren't any hard feelings between us?"

  "No, I don't have any hard feelings,” she replied, incapable of telling him that being so close once again rekindled warm feelings that had yet to grow cold.

  "Hey,"—Philip gestured to the pack of peanut butter crackers in her hand—"you should really eat more than two of those."

  "Two seems to have been enough. I feel a little stronger and the nausea has eased up."

  He arched his brow. “Nausea?"

  "Yes. I was a bit nauseated when I came to, most likely from lingering dizziness. Please, Philip, don't interrogate me again."

  "I don't need to. I know what could've caused all this.” He breathed heavily as his eyes widened. “I can't believe I didn't realize it sooner. I'm a doctor for crying out loud."

  "What are you talking about?” Elle swallowed roughly against rapid nerves.

  "You didn't eat this morning, you fainted and have had nausea. I know we were both waiting for our wedding night to be together . . . But things have obviously changed. C-could you be pregnant?"

  "Pregnant?!” She released a weak, sarcastic laugh and shook her head. “Do you think I gave my purity away along with the engagement ring?"

  "I didn't mean to insinuate-"

  Elle raised her hand and cut him off. “It's okay, Philip. And, no, I couldn't be pregnant. It's physically impossible."

  He gazed at her with a look blended with relief and guilt. “I'm sorry I even suggested it."

  "Don't be. It was medically relevant."

  "Perhaps, but I should have known better. Please accept my apology."

  "Philip, I appreciate it, but you're being overzealous. Believe me, compared to the way things have been going lately, your incorrect suggestion is hardly pertinent."

  "Then whatever has happened lately must be serious."

  "I never said it was serious."

  "You didn't have to,” he said softly, reaching out and sliding his warm hand over hers to steady the open bottle that threatened to slip from her trembling fingers. “Just tell me, please."

  Elle stared down at his hand and set the juice onto the floor, then slid her fingers back over Philip's before he could pull away. His hands may have been larger, his tanned skin rougher and a dark contrast to her soft ivory, but they still fit together. A symbol of the bond between two people who could never be strangers, now stuck somewhere between friends and lovers. “All right, I—"

  "Dr. Wagner!” a nurse shouted inside as the swinging door slammed open. “Oh, whoa! Uh, sorry to interfere, guys."

  "What's the problem?” Philip asked his coworker, seemingly completely unfazed.

  "We've got victims from an MVA coming en route. They had a pile-up outside a shopping center. ETA five minutes."

  "I'll be right there."

  "You better go,” Elle murmured when the nurse disappeared back into the hallway. “It sounds like there are people coming in who need you a lot more than I do."

  He tightened his grip on her hand when she started to move away. “Maybe for now, but that doesn't mean we can't talk later. I'm pulling an all-nighter, but we could meet up afterward and have breakfast."

  "No, you're going to be exhausted. You've already helped me enough, Philip, and I'm very grateful."

  "I'll probably catch a few winks in between cases. And I can crash when we're through. So, I'll meet you around eight?"

  Elle sat silently for a moment, tempted by the easy opportunity to change her mind and escape without tossing her burdens onto someone else. But one look into his caring eyes solidified her original decision. “I'll see you then."

  * * * *

  "You know, when I said we could get together this morning for breakfast, I was thinking we might consider going to a restaurant, or at least somewhere away from St. Anne's, someplace with heat.” Philip led her up the staircase, a cup of coffee in each hand, a sack of bagels tucked between his fingers. “Are you sure this is where you want to go?"

  "Yes,” Elle insisted.

  He sighed and pushed open the door with his shoulder. “All right, ladies first.” He shivered against the fierce, cold wind that whipped around the rooftop.

  Undeterred by the winter weather, Elle walked to the railing, her long, ginger tresses flying around her face while she gazed down at the city below.

  "I never did understand why you loved the rooftop back in Indy so much.” Philip gulped down some coffee in hope of gaining much needed energy and warmth.

  Her small shoulders lifted while she breathed in the nippy fresh air, icy puffs dancing around her lips when she exhaled. “It's the best place I've ever found to help me clear my mind or think things through. It's close enough to the ER to keep a steady grasp on reality, but just far away enough to allow me a little escape. The amazing view can literally help you put things into perspective."

  Philip came closer and gently pressed the spare cup into her gloved hands, then gazed at the majestic Ohio River and skyline comprised of new buildings and old, enhanced by the faint appearance of holiday decorations. “Wow. It really is beautiful.” He dug through the sack. “Do you want a blueberry or strawberry bagel?"

  "You can have them both, I'm not hungry."

  "Come on, Elle, I really don't want a repeat of yesterday's syncope, especially on a rooftop."

  "Relax. I'm perfectly alert.” Elle point
ed her finger at an old building off in the distance. “Do you see that big bank over there?"

  "Yes. Didn't your mom work there?"

  "Yeah, back when I was a kid we used to gather together up at the top every Fourth of July to watch the fireworks display over the river and each December to watch the city tree light up on Main Street after the parade. Those were some of my favorite memories."

  "Does your family still go there?"

  "No,” she whispered with a sad shake of her head. “We stopped years ago. My brother, Archie, and I got preoccupied once we hit our teen years. Suddenly, we thought being at a picnic or shopping mall with our friends seemed much cooler and more important than being with our mom and dad."

  "Well, most teenagers don't want to be around their parents during the holidays or any other day of the year."

  "You're probably right. When you're that age you think you know it all and have no idea just how ignorant you can really be. I bet even today there are going to be people of all ages annoyed to have to spend time with their relatives preparing for Christmas instead of cherishing it."

  Philip wrinkled his brow in concern. “Probably. Not everyone knows why it can be so imperative to never take anything for granted the way doctors do."

  "Despite the degree and medical training, I think I was a few steps behind you in realizing that. But now I know not to take a single thing for granted ever again.” She paused and cleared her throat. “That's why this holiday will be different. I won't be making the same mistakes again."

  "Elle,” he said curtly with a glance at her now shaking hands. “I think it's time to do away with inadvertent, cryptic hints and tell me exactly what's going on with you. I know your dad had a heart attack last year. Has he taken ill? Is that what brought you back here?"

  "No, thank goodness, my father and everyone else in my family is just fine."

  "Then, you,” Philip stammered, struggling to form the question, afraid to hear her answer. “You're not?"

  She glanced up at him, the threat of tears shining in her silver eyes. “No, I'm not okay. I'm so far from okay."

  "You're sick?"

  She took a ragged breath and in a rushed whisper said, “I have lymphoma."