The Secret Door: A Phantom of the Opera Novel

by J. Smith

  She'd made it clear tonight, however, that there would come a day when they would say goodbye. Erik felt a dark mood building up in him. When that day came, would she remember him? Oh, he knew there were things she would wish to forget. The way he bellowed at her that night after the near accident with the carriage. The way he'd derided her for simply not knowing how to make tea. Dear God, even last night, before she had shown him the greatest act of acceptance he had ever known in his life, he'd been so rough with her, so angry. Surely she would wish to forget his temper, and his hot headedness and his horrible thoughtlessness. Were those the very things that drove her away? If he could somehow get his horrible temper under control, would she think instead on their shared excitement as they executed a plan? The evenings spent conversing over tea? The night she lay asleep in his arms? Would she no longer wish to leave?

  Erik sighed, because he knew it was no use. Jenna wished to go back to her home, which was not plagued by ill-tempered masked men or howling divas who needed discipline. A few cups of tea and a night spent dozing in front of the fire wouldn't change that. He let his fingers tiptoe across the piano keys once more, quietly, because he didn't want to wake her. He played the first few measures through, and this time, when the melody danced beneath his fingers, a bittersweet plea poured out from his lips—a tender petition that she not forget the good times they had shared, that she try to remember them even after they'd said goodbye. And this time when his fingers stilled, his music had words. His aria was complete.

  “What do you think, Jenna?” the doctor asked, as the last strains from his acoustic guitar faded into oblivion. “Did you like that one?” Jenna made no answer, but he did earn a loud “Mreeeooooww” from her feline companion. Chuckling, he commented, “Well, I'm glad you liked it, Red, but I was hoping to gain the lady's opinion.”

  He let his fingers absently strum the strings of his guitar. He was off rotation, which meant he could while away the day in jeans and a T-shirt, relaxing and spending as much time with Jenna as he wished. He'd decided to bring the guitar with him to see if Jenna would enjoy a little concert. Music had always been a very relaxing hobby for him. It had helped him ease the stress of medical school, and was a favorite way to pass the time. Since he knew Jenna was a music lover, he'd hoped that a live serenade might reach her in some way that recorded music didn't. “So Jenna, any requests?” he asked jovially, always wanting her to hear joy in his voice—always hoping to convey that there was something worth coming back for.

  “Mrrrreeeeeeeoooooooow.” was the only response.

  “Red!” he scolded good-naturedly. “You've made the last two requests! Give Jenna a chance!”

  “Mreh!” the cat retorted as he continued to circle his owner's head. The doctor just laughed and rolled his eyes.

  “So what do you want to hear, Jenna? Hmmm?” he asked again sweetly, his fingers forming the shape of a chord on the neck of the instrument. “What would you like?” He looked down and very gently began to play a few quiet chords. “Anything I like, you say? Well, ok,” he whispered, “I know what I want.” After a few measures of the rhythmic strumming, he began to sing a song of deep, conflicting emotions, of promises made and broken. His voice started out as a hushed murmur, but as the tension in the song rose and became feverish appeal, his voice grew stronger and more pleading, desperate for the all-consuming desire to be fulfilled. “You,” he crooned soulfully on a raw high note, gazing upon her face. “All I want is you.”

  Penny stayed just outside the door until his song was over. She could not deny that her heart was moved by hearing the young doctor's musical confession. The emotion in his voice had been almost overwhelming, and as he sat there now, silently just staring at her niece, while his breathing quieted from the song, she could tell that his greatest desire was for Jenna to open her eyes just then and reach out to him. If things were different, she would be a champion for a relationship between her niece and this sweet, passionate young man.

  But things were not different, and Jenna was not reaching out to him, she was lying motionless in a hospital bed. It was not his job to woo her back to consciousness—although if anyone could, she was certain this doctor would be able. It was his job to administer effective treatments. And thus far, he hadn't been very successful at doing that. It was entirely inappropriate for him to be entertaining feelings for his patient, for those feelings were obviously obscuring his thinking.

  Her mind wandered back to several nights before, when she herself had been locked in a passionate embrace with Blaine. She knew that inviting him up to her room for dinner had been a mistake, but she had been so intent on hearing what he had to say about the medications that had promise to help Jenna. He had told her about the drug which had been known to help coma patients regain consciousness—both for short stretches of time and for longer periods—and she had been so excited that she had not thought twice about throwing her arms around him in a grateful hug. When his lips had found hers moments after, in a searing kiss, she had found it impossible to resist his advances, even though she knew she should. It was not proper for her to be carrying on a romantic affair with a doctor who would be working on her niece's case, but it had been so long since a man had kissed her like that. When he'd led her to the bed, she'd been powerless to resist. Relief was immediate when his beeper went off, rousing him from their embrace before they could do something she had absolutely no business doing—something which she knew would cloud her judgment even more.

  She knocked quietly as she pushed open the door and entered the room. “Good afternoon, Doctor.”

  The young man reluctantly looked away from Jenna, and up into her eyes. “Oh, hello, Ms. Wilson.”

  “I…I'm surprised to see you here, Doctor,” she stumbled a bit on her words, trying to make conversation. “I was told it was your day off.”

  “It is,” he smiled. “I'm just visiting.”

  Penny smiled back. Despite what Blaine said, and despite her dissatisfaction with Jenna's progress, she could not help but feel sorry for what she was about to do. This doctor truly seemed to have Jenna's best interest at heart. It was because of her guilt that Penny informed him of the plans for the afternoon. “If you are free, Blaine and I are having a meeting with Dr. James in about an hour and a half, to discuss Jenna's treatment options.”

  “Blaine?” he asked, a bit taken aback. “I…I wasn't aware of any meeting.”

  “I apologize,” she said sheepishly. “It was the only time Blaine had free, and since it was your day off, we didn't want to disturb you.”

  “Oh, I understand,” he said with a tight smile. And truly, he did understand exactly why the meeting had been planned for this afternoon—because Blaine didn't want him in attendance. But Dr. Charleson would just have to get accustomed to not getting what he wanted, because of course he would be attending the meeting. “I am free all afternoon, Ms. Wilson,” he said out loud. “Just let me know the time and the place, and I will be there. Your niece's health is of the utmost concern to me.”

  It had been a busy morning for a day off. After Jenna's aunt had informed him about the meeting, he had gathered Red and his guitar, and left Penny to visit with her niece. The drive across town was slow with traffic, and he barely had enough time to deposit the hungry feline, feed him, and change into more professional attire before he had to be back at the hospital for the meeting. He dashed down the hall much faster than he should have and opened Dr. James's door after knocking first to announce his arrival. “I'm here,” he said somewhat breathlessly, as he entered the room.

  Blaine glanced quickly over at Penny who would not meet his gaze before setting his eyes back on his colleague and saying, “So you are.”

  “Welcome, Doctor,” his supervisor said by way of greeting, waving toward an empty chair at his small conference table. “Pleased you could join us after all. Dr. Charleson told me yesterday that you would not be able to make it.”

  “That is only because I had not been informed u
ntil this morning,” he said, meeting Blaine's smug blue eyes with a glare.

  “Well,” said Dr. James, a bit surprised by the revelation. “We shall have to make sure that type of oversight doesn't happen again. Dr. Charleson,” he began, clearing his throat in obvious irritation. “You initiated this meeting. Would you care to tell me why, since you are not Miss Wilson's doctor?”

  “Actually, Dr. James,” Charleson responded, his voice smooth and calm. If he was at all taken aback by the younger doctor's presence, he did not show it. “It was Penny, who initiated the meeting on behalf of her niece,” he said, placing a hand on the blonde woman's back, creating an image of intimacy between the two.

  All eyes turned to her as Penny swallowed once and began to speak, obviously a bit intimidated to be speaking to this group of doctors. “Well…I…that is, Blaine told me…”

  “What Miss Wilson is trying to say,” Dr. Charleson took over for her quickly, acting as self-appointed spokesperson for the flustered family member, “is that she is dissatisfied with the level of care Jenna Wilson has received to date.”

  “Oh, really?” the younger doctor stared daggers at him from across the table.

  “Yes,” was all the answer Blaine made as he continued. “Young Miss Wilson has shown no real improvement to date—other than occasionally squeezing her doctor's hand—and her aunt is ready to explore more aggressive treatments.”

  “Is that so?” Jenna's doctor asked, surprised, since Jenna's aunt hadn't mentioned anything about this when he had seen her at her niece's bedside.

  “Yes, I…” she once again stumbled over her words, “Blaine…”

  “We would like to start a course of Zolpidem with Miss Wilson.” Charleson informed them, matter-of-factly.

  “Excuse me,” Jenna's doctor interrupted in annoyance. “Who would like to start a course of Zolpidem, because as her doctor, I certainly would not!”

  “Well, that's another thing we need to discuss, Doctor,” Charleson smiled cunningly at him. “Penny?”

  “Well,” she began shakily, as all eyes were once again on her. “I would like for Blaine,” she cleared her throat as Blaine seemed to pat her on the back, “I mean Dr. Charleson, to take over Jenna's case.”

  The young doctor felt anger and embarrassment course through his veins, and he worked hard at keeping the hurt out of his eyes. “Ms. Wilson, I beg you reconsider,” he said, calmly to Jenna's aunt, trying with all his might to keep the desperation he was feeling at the moment out of his voice. He knew that Jenna's aunt had been railroaded by lies fed to her by Charleson.

  “Doctor,” she said, meeting his wary eyes with kindness in her own. “You've tried your methods of treatment on Jenna, and they are not working.”

  “They take time to work, Miss Wilson,” he implored, hoping that she would see reason and let him continue a little longer. “I have seem some modest improvements…”

  ”No disrespect intended, Doctor,” her voice gaining a bit in strength, “but the improvements have been too modest—and, apparently, only seen by you. This drug…it has brought people out of comas. How can I not want to try that on Jenna?”

  “But Ms. Wilson, please,” he beseeched her. “Listen to me. Zolpidem is not the wondrous answer that Dr. Charleson may have made it out to be.”

  “Are you saying I would lie?” Blaine interjected.

  “In a heartbeat,” he answered, not once looking away from Jenna's aunt. “It has been successful in a small number of cases in restoring consciousness—but only for short periods of time and—I must stress—only in a handful of cases. The majority of patients who undergo Zolpidem treatment gain no beneficial effects. And then there are the side effects. Zolpidem can be a dangerous drug, Miss Wilson, causing chest pain, back pain, anxiety, tremors…the list goes on and on. And if Jenna is unconscious, and experiences these symptoms, how is she going to tell us she hurts?”

  Penny looked quite uncertain at this point and turned to Blaine as if to ask if all of this was true. Before she could, however, he interjected, “What if she hurts now, Doctor? How can she tell us beyond the occasional hand squeeze and a shiver in the cold?”

  He turned to Blaine, eyes blazing. “You are so quick to dismiss the small measures of success I have had with her, but tell me, Doctor, when have you ever exhibited a greater results with a coma patient? How many have you treated successfully?”

  Dr. Charleson was unflappable. “I look forward to counting Jenna as my first.”

  “Oh, so you have no problem using her as a guinea pig, then,” he retorted, anger now clear in his voice, “using treatments you, yourself have never used before.”

  “And you are so accomplished in Coma Arousal Therapy?” he snickered as he named the younger doctor's choice of treatment out loud, emphasizing the most untoward part of the name.

  “First do no harm, Charleson,” he spat out, absolutely irate. “Do you remember that tenet from Med School? It is one of the first things they teach you in ethics class. Or were you sick that day?”

  “I was there the day they cautioned against falling in love with your patients, Doctor, for fear it would cloud your objectivity,” he looked pointedly at the young man whose cheeks reddened in embarrassment. “Were you there then?”

  “What if you send her deeper?” he asked desperately, his desire to argue with Charleson taking a back seat to his worries about Jenna's well being. “Zolpidem is hypnotic in nature! So many coma patients who take it never gain any benefit and never wake up.”

  “That is true of coma patients in general,” he stated, dismissing the concern with a wave of his hand.

  “Granted. But what if the Zolpidem doesn't work to rouse her from her coma, but instead puts her into a deeper state? She is reacting some now. Why can we not remain patient and see if she can come out of this on her own?”

  Penny took that moment to speak up, “I can no longer be patient with my niece's health, Doctor. I'm sorry,” she said, looking the younger doctor in the eye. “I know you mean well and care deeply about Jenna. But I care about her too, and I want to give her every chance.”

  “So do I, Ms. Wilson,” he begged her with his eyes to change her mind—to just let things continue as they were for a while longer. He was certain he could reach Jenna—that he was reaching Jenna. He just needed more time.

  She reached out and clasped one of his hands in hers. “Then will you continue on as her doctor and try the Zolpidem?”

  For the first time, Blaine seemed to bristle a bit at her words. This was not a part of the equation. He wanted to perform the Zolpidem treatments on Jenna. He was not about to let this pathetic excuse for a neurology resident take that away from him. He turned to tell Penny so, but heard his rival answer, meekly, “Ms. Wilson, I can't. In good conscience, I cannot administer that drug to Jenna. There are too many unknowns.”

  What a fool, Blaine thought. He had the chance to retain full control over Jenna's case, and just threw it away over his ridiculous feelings for a girl who hadn't even noticed he existed before she'd had her accident. She'd been screwing a physical therapist, for God's sake. And who knows whom else. She wasn't some innocent angel that was just waiting for him to come and sweep her off her feet. This idiot had created these feelings entirely in his head—and now he was passing up a career goldmine because of them.

  “Well, then, will you at least continue with your therapy?” she asked, gently. “I want Blaine to try the drug, but perhaps it would work best in conjunction with what you are already doing?”

  He closed his eyes and nodded his head. This was not what he wanted. He wanted to continue his treatments without the interference of Charleson and this drug. But he had no claim over Jenna. He was not her family. He could not make these calls—he could only advise against them. And since he'd tried that already and it didn't work, there was nothing left for him to do. But he'd promised that he would not give up on Jenna. He swore that he would do everything he could to help her, so he would have to accept thi
s compromise. If it was the only way he could remain close to her, then he would do it. He still had to try.

  “I can do that, Ms. Wilson,” he told her aunt, refusing to look in Charleson's direction.

  “Thank you, Doctor,” she smiled. “I think your involvement would mean a lot to Jenna. It means a lot to me.”

  “Well,” said Dr. James, pushing away from the table and looking his two charges in the eye with an expression that was both worried and firm. “That's settled then. The two of you will be in charge of Jenna's case from here on out. I expect cooperation and collaboration, is that clear, Doctors?”

  “Yes, sir,” the younger doctor answered.

  “Crystal,” was Charleson’s smug response.

  “Very well,” James adjourned the meeting, still looking at the younger physician with concern. “You may go.”

  “Thank you,” he murmured as he rose from James’ table, intent on going to visit Jenna once more.

  “Hey, Doctor,” Charleson met him at the door, as he exited the room, his hand on the small of Penny’s back, an oily smile on his face. “Why don’t you go enjoy the rest of your day off? I've got things covered here.”