She eyed him through her tears. “But you asked her.”
“She’ll understand.”
She managed a tremulous smile. “She won’t be mad?”
“No.” Matthew felt his heart drop at the thought of breaking the news to Sarah. “She’ll understand,” he repeated.
SARAH SPENT the afternoon getting ready to go to Lucy’s play.
She took a bubble bath, considerably more relaxing than the one she’d taken the night before, played Bizet on the stereo. After drying herself, she even painted her toenails then tried on clothes for the better part of an hour.
Attractive but not trying too hard—that was the look she wanted. At the mirror over the bathroom cabinet—the only mirror in the apartment, in fact—she considered her hair. Released from the braid, it came all the way down her back and the truth was, she was sick of it. Maybe she would call Debbi. Make an appointment to cut it all off. But not today, she decided.
In the bedroom, she kicked off her jeans and began pulling clothes from the closet. Discarding combinations, hating everything. It was as though three other people sat on the bed delivering commentary.
Elizabeth shook her head. “That drains your color.”
Rose rolled her eyes. “What color you have.”
Lucy smirked. “That’s kind of old-fashioned.”
“That one should have stayed in the jungle.” Rose again.
“Not bad, but not with that skirt.” Elizabeth.
Sarah banished them all from the room. This was ridiculous. Not just that her wardrobe was limited, but that it mattered. She was a forty-two-year-old woman. A physician. Without a practice, without a patient, but a physician nevertheless. And she was getting ready to spend the evening with a man she’d known forever. Matthew. Her old friend Matthew.
Matthew, the father of a fourteen-year-old girl who hated her.
She sat on the bed and, without even thinking about what she was doing, picked up a pen from the bedside table. On the back of a grocery list, also on the table, she started a list of reasons she should halt this relationship before it went any further.
Number One, she wrote.
Not stepmother material.
She scratched out the words, crumpled the paper and tossed it in the trash. Maybe she was projecting just a tad? In the kitchen, she got a soda from the fridge, drank some and carried it over to the computer and immediately forgot everything else. Google had turned up several more articles on physicians who made house calls, mostly in rural areas like Port Hamilton. When the doorbell rang, she glanced at her watch, thinking at first that the time had gotten away from her and it was Matthew. But he’d said six.
She opened the front door. Matthew stood there, an expression on his face she couldn’t quite read. “You’re a little early,” she said.
“I know.”
“Couldn’t stay away, huh?” She closed the door behind him and he followed her into the living room. He looked uncomfortable. Constrained somehow. “Have a seat.” She gestured at the couch. “What’s up?”
He scratched the back of his head. “I have to…disinvite you to the play,” he said, the words all coming out on a breath. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I was looking forward to this. It’s Lucy. I told her you were coming and she got bent out of shape. Maybe I shouldn’t have caved in to her, but it’s her play and…” He looked at her. “I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”
“Hey.” She curled her feet up under her. Even if going to the play meant more than anything else in the world—and it didn’t—the look of sheer misery on Matthew’s face was enough to convince her that it wasn’t that important after all. “It’s okay, really.” He still seemed miserable and not entirely convinced so she scooted next to him and stuck her face under his. “Boo.”
He smiled. “You’re not angry?”
“Furious. Leave and never darken my door again.”
“I’m torn between being angry at Lucy and—”
“Don’t. She’s a kid.” She thought of the discarded outfits all over the bed and realized she was more relieved than disappointed. Having Matthew here with her now, rather than sharing him with Lucy later, was infinitely preferable. Although, she’d probably have to work on that—the concept of sharing Matthew. “I do remember what it was like being fourteen,” she said. “The smallest thing gets magnified into gigantic proportions.”
“I’m not going to start talking about the CMS thing again, but I just want to give you some context. When Lucy was born, I remember feeling so awed at the responsibility of being a parent. I didn’t take it lightly for one minute. I wanted her to have all the things I never had. Not just the material stuff, but a sense of security and the knowledge that she was really loved and wanted. Even after Elizabeth and I started having problems, I would have stayed with the marriage just so that Lucy had both parents. But then Elizabeth met this guy and I really had no other option but to move out.”
Sarah watched his face. He’d closed his eyes and his voice was soft and almost faraway, as though he were thinking aloud. Except for the time when he’d asked her about Ted, they hadn’t really talked about their other relationships. She’d spent so many years not letting herself think about Matthew and Elizabeth that, eventually, it required no effort. But now, she wondered. “Were you still in love with her?”
Matthew’s brow furrowed. “No,” he said after a moment. “Not for a long time.” He opened his eyes, grinned at her. “But I never stopped loving her mother. I was just telling Pearl the other day, that I think she was part of the reason I fell in love with Elizabeth in the beginning—”
“Not to mention that every guy in school had a crush on Elizabeth,” Sarah said. “Including you.”
He laughed. “Okay, I admit it. Including me. But it was more than that.”
“Pearl’s a good sort,” Sarah said, smiling. “I liked her because she liked me.”
“Same here. I missed out on having parents to confirm my self-worth, but Pearl always made me feel like the best thing that happened since sliced bread. It was addictive.”
“Did Elizabeth make you feel that way, too?”
“Yeah.”
Sarah picked at her fingernail. “And I was hard on you.”
“You were just…you. I mean, what would you have done if I’d said something…sappy?”
“Like?”
“Like, I don’t know. What if I’d said I loved you?”
“I’d have laughed.”
“My point exactly,” he said.
And then, in a replay of the previous night, he pulled her onto his lap and they blotted out the rest of the world with a single kiss.
“I’ve got to go. The play starts in ten minutes,” Matthew said.
At the door, he kissed her again.
“Go.” She placed her hands on his chest, feeling the wool of his sweater. “Have fun.”
“I’ll call you.” He reached for her hand, turned it over then took a pen from his jacket and wrote something on her palm. “Don’t look at it until I’ve gone.”
She waited until he’d driven off.
Keep the weekend free for me, he’d written.
“WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?” Elizabeth asked as she slipped into the seat next to Matthew in the high-school auditorium. “You almost missed the start.”
“Sorry,” Matthew whispered as the lights dimmed.
Watching Lucy, he felt a complicated stew of emotions. Welling love and pride, mixing with a simmering irritation and disappointment. He would have liked Sarah to see for herself how Lucy was stealing the show and it bothered him that, even at fourteen, his daughter couldn’t rise above her jealousy, or whatever it was.
Afterward, Elizabeth held a small party. The cast of eight and a dozen or so friends and
family. Pearl found him in the kitchen, making a dinner out of the appetizers Elizabeth had set out. He realized as he piled Swedish meatballs onto a paper plate that he hadn’t eaten since early that morning and he was devouring the food and only half listening to Pearl when he caught the word manipulate.
“Sorry?” He speared a meatball. “What was that?”
“Lucy manipulates you. Elizabeth said she’s jealous of Sarah and giving you a hard time.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Matthew said, automatically coming to his daughter’s defense. “Anyway, there’s nothing…” He’d been about to tell Pearl there was nothing for Lucy to be jealous of. But he realized that was no longer true.
“You do more than enough for that girl,” Pearl said. “You have a right to your own life, you know that.”
Matthew watched Elizabeth and her new boyfriend, whose name he couldn’t recall, and wondered why being a father seemed at odds somehow with having a personal life. It wasn’t as though Lucy was completely sheltered from the facts of life. He realized Pearl was watching him.
“So?” She waggled her head. “You and Sarah got over your differences then? You told me she accused you of selling out.”
“She apologized,” Matthew said. “Not that she needed to.”
“How’s she doing?”
“Fine. She’s going into practice for herself. Integrated medicine, she calls it. And house calls.”
Pearl smiled. “Like her great-grandfather used to do. There’s room for it.”
“Actually, she asked me to join her.”
“And?”
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Sarah talks about ideals and the kind of things we used to dream about. There’s nothing she liked better than to get behind a cause. And I think she’s found one that’s challenging enough to suit her. The thing is, I don’t know how realistic that is anymore. Money’s more of an issue for me than for Sarah. I’ve got a daughter to support, house payments to make.”
“Sell the house,” Pearl said.
He laughed as though the suggestion were beyond consideration.
“Lucy doesn’t need a swimming pool in the backyard,” Pearl said. “If she wants to swim she can go to the beach just like you used to.”
THAT NIGHT he hardly slept. The events of the day rattled around in his head, subsiding while he read, then springing to life again as soon as he turned off the lamp. Sarah was like a storm blowing and churning already turbulent waters. He’d lost his compass, unsure any more of the direction to take. Compassionate Medical Systems would provide financial stability. But with Sarah’s input, he might have the chance to practice the kind of medicine he’d once dreamed about.
The next day, already tired and irritable when he got to the hospital, he discovered a six-month-old girl had managed to extubate herself and was struggling to breathe. The physician on call—a moonlighter—was long gone by the time Matthew found her. He checked blood gas, found the carbon-dioxide level sky-high and put her back on the ventilator. Then he walked across the hall to the nursing director’s office and vented his anger and frustration.
“Well, good morning to you, too, Matthew,” Carol Kirshman said after she’d listened to him rant for a good ten minutes. “I don’t know whether you’re interested in an explanation, but I’m going to give you one anyway.”
Matthew wasn’t interested in an explanation, but he owed her that. He sat down in the chair by her desk.
“…and the baby was doing fine, so Dr. Josephson left her off the ventilator to see if she would go on doing well if he kept her off. Unfortunately, he didn’t follow up with her. Which meant no blood gasses were ordered. The nurse called him at six this morning to report the baby was having breathing problems, but he didn’t get out of bed to come check her.”
He nodded and they both looked at each other. “I’m sorry,” he said, “for blowing up at you.”
She shrugged. “We’re short staffed, Matt. We’re overworked. Stretched beyond capacity. But thank you for the apology. You did an excellent impersonation of acting like a jerk, but I wasn’t entirely convinced. I was pretty sure I knew you better than that.”
“Thanks.”
“Things getting to you?”
“This whole thing with CMS. One day I think, okay, enough of all this. Let’s just get on board, it can’t be all that bad. And then—”
“New radiology department,” she read from one of the CMS brochures in a stack on her desk. “More staffing, physician-recruitment effort.”
“I’ve heard the sales pitch,” he said.
“But you’re still holding out.”
“Something doesn’t sit right.” He hesitated. “And I’ve met this woman…well, I didn’t just meet her, we grew up together…”
“Sarah Benedict?”
“Yeah. How—”
“One of my nurses lives in the same apartment building and she saw you over there. Plus, Rose mentioned something about her daughter being back. Rose was hoping she’d apply to CMS—”
Matthew shook his head. “Sarah’s too idealistic for that. Joining CMS would be like selling out. I made the mistake of telling her how I’m leaning and she spent thirty minutes lecturing me about medicine as big business. Some of what she says makes sense, a lot of it actually. But Sarah isn’t supporting a family, or making house payments. Although, I’m not sure that would make any difference. You’ve met her, haven’t you?”
“Years ago when she was still in medical school.” She leaned back in her chair. “Wasn’t her husband killed in an accident?”
“Struck by lightning.”
“And she hasn’t remarried?”
“No.” He suddenly realized he’d been led into a trap. “And quit looking at me like that. We’re friends. We always have been.” Now strictly speaking a lie by omission, but Carol didn’t need to know that. “Sarah’s this independent, self-sufficient woman. Determined to do her own thing, if only to prove me wrong.” He smiled. “She hates losing, especially to a man.”
“So you’re good friends and…”
“Good friends.”
“Well, friendship’s a great start,” Carol said. “Let me know if it turns into something serious, though, so the nurses can cross you off the eligibility list.”
Matthew rolled his eyes. “Come on.” And then he thought about the note he’d written on Sarah’s hand. His plan had been to rent kayaks, like old times. “I have a question. Purely hypothetical.” He scratched the back of his neck. “What would be your idea of a romantic evening?”
She laughed. “I can’t, Matt. I’m married.”
He waited.
“Okay, sit down.” She slid a notepad across the desk. “Ready?”
SARAH, IMMERSED up to her neck in bubbling thermal water, was thinking about Matthew and their upcoming trip over to Victoria.
He’d called just before she left to pick up Rose—also immersed in water just a few feet away, her head tipped back, steam drifting up around her. After listening to Rose complain about her back, Sarah had suggested a drive up to the Sol Duc hot springs for a therapeutic dip. Located in the middle of an old grove rain forest with the Olympics towering in the background it seemed the perfect spot to do a little contemplating.
A door had opened leading out of the safe familiar place that had been her relationship with Matthew into to one where she didn’t know the rules. He was a man, and she was attracted to him as she’d never been to anyone else before—that part was easy enough to figure out. But the fact that the man was Matthew required some adjustments to her thinking.
Although she’d loved Ted, she’d also known that he needed her more than she’d needed him. Not exciting, but it had been comfortable and nonthreatening. In the new place where she and Matthew seemed to b
e headed, the reverse could easily happen and it scared her.
“Ah, this is bliss.” Rose paddled over to Sarah’s side. “Thank you, my dear, for taking the time to bring me up here.”
“Glad to,” Sarah said, pleased and touched by Rose’s expression of gratitude. “I’m enjoying it, too.”
“I apologize if I was discouraging about your health-care proposal,” Rose said.
Sarah looked at her. “Okay, Mother, I think the steam has softened your brain. Thanks and an apology. This isn’t you.”
“It’s never too late to change.” Rose smiled. “Now, tell me some more about this idea of yours.”
“You’re pushing it.”
“Tell me anyway,” Rose said.
Sarah breathed in a lungful of steamy air, then, in the spirit of her mother’s professed attempt at change, decided to choose trust over suspicion. As she went on to explain her plans in more detail she shot a glance at Rose, saw the familiar quizzical expression and heard her own voice, which had started out full of enthusiasm, go flat.
“Makes no sense,” Rose finally said. “You’re going against the tide. And I hope you’re not getting mixed up with that farmer’s-market loony.”
Sarah leaned her head back until her hair floated across the water, lifted her legs off the bottom. So much for the new, accepting Rose. Not that she’d truly expected Rose’s endorsement, but she felt as though she’d been tricked into opening up, lulled into a false sense of security. Serves you right for being gullible.
“Why do you think I sold to CMS?” Rose was asking. “What if…”
Sarah tuned her out. Bottom line, the idea of relaxing with Rose was an oxymoron. She wondered if Matthew thought that about her. She breathed in steam, tried to make her mind go blank and then, before she knew it, was planning exactly how she would get staff privileges at Port Arthur General and explaining, or justifying, to Matthew that it was just as close for people who lived out on the west end of the peninsula and that serious cases could be airlifted to Seattle, just as they’d always been. When she tuned in sometime later, Rose was yammering on about CMS and the new state-of-the-art E.R. that would replace the existing one.
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