“That’s not…” I want to know if you love me. “Karen. Are you and she…are you with her?”
Above any others, it was the answer she really wanted. Needed. She trusted that Vic would do her best to make sure this setback in her recovery—an infection, if that was what it was—would be dealt with. But if she was with Karen, if she loved Karen… Hell, she didn’t know if she could handle that, if she could survive that.
“Ange, the ambulance. It’s almost here.”
“No.” Angie squeezed Vic’s hand harder. “Tell me. Please.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Vic’s face crumpled. “I’m not with Karen.”
“But she…you…” It took too much effort to speak.
“No.” Vic raised Angie’s hand and kissed it, and when she spoke again her voice was strong, sure. “I’m not going back to Karen. Ever.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Claire gently took Vic by the elbow and guided her out of the surgical waiting room chair. Vic let her; she was wobbly from exhaustion and worry, but she was also sick of the helplessness of the situation. Angie had been in surgery for close to an hour now, and it could be another hour before Tim Kennedy came out to speak to her as well as Claire, Roger, Suzanne, and Nick. Before the surgery began, Tim told her he’d likely have to do a splenectomy, but that he wouldn’t know for sure until he got in there. Vic had tried hard to manipulate her way into the operating room, but it wasn’t exactly a secret around the hospital that the two women were somehow involved. Allowing a loved one, even a loved one who was an MD, into the operating theater was ethically frowned upon, not to mention a nightmare in practical terms. Vic herself didn’t like family in the treatment room because emotions could easily get out of hand, making it difficult for the medical staff to do their jobs and all too often proving to be overwhelming for the patient.
“You look like you needed a break,” Claire said in the elevator after pressing the button for the first floor where the cafeteria was located.
“Do I look as bad as I feel?” Vic wouldn’t normally admit such a thing, especially to someone she hardly knew, but with Claire, she felt no judgment.
“Sort of. But you make a lovely basket case, if it’s any consolation.”
Vic smiled for the first time today. “Thanks. I think.”
Claire touched her hand briefly. “It’s okay. You’re with family.”
Family. With Karen she’d had a family. Until Karen had made her an orphan again. But with the Cullens, Vic could see how easily, how warmly and simply they could become her family. It was a progression that felt right, natural. It had since the first time she met them. “Thank you, Claire,” she said against the sandpaper in her throat.
“Thank you for being there for Angie. That means the world to all of us.”
Vic sipped the too-hot coffee because it helped cleanse the emotion from her throat. “I can see Angie means the world to all of you.”
“She does. And you mean the world to her.”
“I do?”
“Yes. You do. She’s in love with you, you know. Even if she hasn’t said it to you yet.”
She couldn’t argue with Claire, because Claire was right, and Vic knew it in the deepest recesses of her heart. She’d known it for weeks now, and Angie’s love for her was precisely why there had been an emotional chasm between them the last little while. It wasn’t about Karen, not really. What had scared Vic away was the truth that Angie loved her. She said simply, “I don’t want to hurt her.”
Claire looked at her with wide, searching eyes. “Are you afraid you’re going to?”
“I was…am, yes.”
“Because you’re not sure if you love her?”
“No, it’s not that. I think I was…am…afraid that I’ll screw it up. That I’m no good at this.”
“Because of your marriage ending?”
Vic nodded. She knew she wasn’t to blame for Karen blowing up their marriage, but she also understood now that these things didn’t happen without underlying reasons. Something led Karen to stray in the first place, even if that something was a neglected relationship on both their parts. They were both responsible for their marriage ending up on the trash heap.
“Do you mind if I ask you something else?”
“Of course not.”
“As a doctor, did you ever screw up? Lose a patient because of something you did or didn’t do?”
“Of course. It comes with the territory in this profession.”
“Let me tell you something about myself that you might not know, Vic. Nick is actually my second husband.”
“He is?” Angie hadn’t said anything about it.
“Nick and I have been married for six years. But in my early twenties I was married for twenty-two months.”
“What happened?”
“We were young and had no idea what we were getting into. First sexual partners and all that. We thought we were being so grown up getting married, that it was the thing to do.” Claire rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “I knew pretty early on in the marriage that it wasn’t going to last, that it was a mistake. Don’t get me wrong, Brad wasn’t a bad guy. We’re still friends, actually. He plays hockey with Nick once a week.”
Vic laughed. “That’s rural life, I guess, huh?”
“Exactly. But here’s the thing. I had to forgive myself for making a mistake. Brad did too. It’s the flip side of giving yourself permission to take risks in the first place, but it’s all part and parcel of the same thing.”
“The thing is Claire,” Vic said haltingly, “is that I’m not in my twenties anymore.”
“Ah, so you think mistakes are solely for young people to make?”
Vic thought about the analogy Claire had made, and it uncorked something important. She’d always counseled young doctors that they would make mistakes, sometimes irreparable ones, but that it didn’t make them bad doctors and it didn’t mean they should stop doing their jobs. It was called life. And it was called not being perfect. “Point taken.”
“Angie won’t break, you know,” Claire continued. “I think what’s hurting her is not what you both may or may not do to one another in the future, but what’s happening now. If you love her, you should tell her.”
“I will,” Vic said. But not yet. There were things she needed to take care of first, namely Karen. And she needed Angie to get her strength back and focus on her recovery. “When the time’s right Claire, I promise I will.”
Claire smiled at her. “Good. Because I can see in your eyes that you love her.”
Vic blushed. “You can?”
“Absolutely. Now let’s get back there and see if our girl is out of surgery yet.”
* * *
If a truck had run over Angie, she wouldn’t have felt worse. Her mouth was a desert, her side hurt like hell, and her entire body felt exhausted, heavy. An IV was connected in each arm, antibiotics and pain medication anchoring her to the bed. Not that she had the strength to get up even if she wanted to.
Vic’s face came into view, and it was the loveliest face Angie had ever seen. Especially when Vic smiled. She didn’t know if Vic knew it or not, but when she smiled that way, it was an angel’s smile—warm, loving, comforting, beatific somehow. It made Angie’s heart ache in the most pleasurable way. She did her best to smile back because every cell in her body wanted to, but it was a chore. “Wh—what happened?”
Vic’s hand moved to Angie’s forehead, then tenderly brushed her cheek. “You have an infection, sweetheart, but it’s under control now. And Dr. Kennedy had to do a splenectomy. I’m sorry. But you’re going to be okay. You’re going to get better now. Finally.”
“When? I don’t remember…surgery.”
“You were pretty out of it with your fever. We brought you in by ambulance last night and the surgery started at about seven this morning.”
Angie swallowed painfully. “What time is it now?”
Vic checked her watch. “Just after nine in the evening. I sen
t your family home a couple of hours ago so they could have a proper meal.”
“I’ve been out that long?”
“Yes, but you’ve been sedated and on some pretty heavy pain medication.”
“When…can I get out of here?”
Vic’s laughter sent a warm tingle through Angie. “You’ve only been here twenty-four hours and you want to go home already?”
“Yes.” As long as it’s home with you.
Vic pulled her chair closer. “Hopefully by tomorrow afternoon, and I’m afraid you’re going to have to put up with me being your jail warden again.”
“Good. I love your jail. I mean…your house.”
“Do you remember much about last night? Before you came here?”
Angie shook her head. She remembered feeling hot and sick to her stomach and so incredibly tired. Sad too for some reason.
“You asked me if I was back with Karen. You were pretty adamant about it.”
Angie tensed, her heart lurching at the answer Vic might provide. “Go on,” she said, only half meaning it.
“I told you I’m not with Karen. And it’s true. But things weren’t entirely finished between us. Resolved, I mean, which is why the two of us have been having a few conversations lately. Earlier tonight, I met her downstairs in the cafeteria for dinner.”
Dammit, why did it always feel like the other shoe was about to drop? Angie squeezed her eyes shut against what might be coming, felt Vic tenderly smooth her hair again, which started a slow ache in her chest.
Vic whispered, “Don’t look so worried.”
“Do I need to be?” She opened her eyes.
“No.” That smile again that could undo Angie in a heartbeat. “I told her we couldn’t ever be together again, that it was over. And not just because I couldn’t ever trust her again, but because I don’t love her anymore. I think I haven’t loved her in quite awhile. I just…we got into a rut. Even when we decided to get legally married, we did it, I think, as some kind of Band-Aid to paper over what was missing from our relationship.” Vic shrugged. “It took a crisis—her affair—for me to finally figure things out. To realize that our marriage wasn’t worth trying to rescue.”
“Wow.” Angie’s desire for revenge, to see Karen hurt, fell away. “I’m so sorry, honey. I’m sorry you were so unhappy for a long time. How did she take it?”
“Surprisingly well. She was actually quite gracious about it. When she and Brooke broke up, I think she was confused, lost more than anything, and didn’t quite know where to turn. She’s going to move back to Chicago. She’s going to try to get her old job back.”
“Good. And what about you? How do you feel?”
“Like a weight has been lifted. Like I might actually be on my way to finding my footing again. And I think I have some ideas on that front.”
Angie smiled weakly. She was happy, thrilled at this turn of events. But something hollow, something that felt an awful lot like fear, shadowed her.
“We’ll talk more when you’re stronger.”
A light kiss flitted across Angie’s lips, and her blood thickened for a moment. Then the kiss was gone, the ghost of it lingering on her mouth.
“Sleep well,” Vic whispered.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
If there was one good thing so far about Angie’s injury, it was the endless opportunities it provided for Vic to get to know the Cullens better. Angie had only been out of the hospital and tucked into Vic’s house for four days now, but Angie’s parents or Nick and Claire stopped in every day with casseroles, soups, and an abundance of entertaining conversation. Vic was in no hurry to return to work and had at least another week off, more if she needed it. She could get used to this, all of it—having someone around the house, welcoming regular visitors who were fun and warm and kind and, with gentle ease, made her feel like one of them.
Today was Angie’s first day outside the house. Vic had driven them to the Cullen farmstead because Angie was getting bored and, though Vic would never admit it to another soul, she wanted to see if Angie was itching to move back home. The health crisis was over, Angie was recovering nicely, but Vic wasn’t ready to let her go. Having Angie to take care of, to fuss over, to share conversation with, to read books to (she hadn’t stopped the little habit they’d fallen into), to cook for (Angie was finally on solid food, though barely), made Vic feel useful, complete, in a way her job failed to do. Their connection warmed her soul, made her happy, dammit, in a way she hadn’t been in years.
“So,” Claire said with a lightness meant to mask the seriousness of her question. She and Vic were huddled in the Cullens’ massive kitchen making tea for everyone. “How’s life with your patient going? I mean, really going?”
“Good,” Vic said, keeping her eyes on the boiling kettle. She knew exactly what Claire was trying to get at. “Nice. She’s doing well and I’m enjoying the company.”
“Just nice?” Claire chuckled, playfully bumping shoulders with Vic. The two women had become friends. “Not romantic yet?”
“Not romantic yet.” Vic’s grin dissolved as she thought of the cheerful but tidy routine she and Angie had fallen into. Angie’s health was the first priority, and so Vic hadn’t raised any further serious emotional topics with her. She wanted Angie strong and off the pain medication before they took any next steps. But it made her impatient sometimes, left her yearning for that emotional connection late at night when she was alone in her bed. She saw it in Angie’s eyes too—the questions, the longing for something deeper. In an unspoken agreement, they both knew the time wasn’t right yet to lay it all out there.
“Well, I don’t know how much more time you’re going to have Angie to yourself before Momma Bear carts her off and brings her back home. Suzanne’s itching to have Angie back under her roof again. I swear she’s jealous that you’re the one who gets to do all the fussing and caretaking of our girl.”
Shit, Vic thought. If that happened, she and Angie might never get time alone again. Or at least not for a few more weeks. Her sensible side told her that it would be okay, that no matter how many days or weeks passed right now, she and Angie wouldn’t lose their special connection and that simmering desire for one another. But still, if she moved out of Vic’s, it would put that much more distance between them.
Claire poured the kettle into a teapot practically the size of a microwave oven. “The good news is, Nick and I have an idea of something that might help keep Angie at your place indefinitely.”
Vic’s eyebrows jumped into her forehead. “Wow, really?”
“Yes, really. That girl needs to get her butt out of the parental nest. And soon, or she might never leave.”
Just then Nick barged into the kitchen, and Claire and Vic began giggling conspiratorially.
“Speaking of never leaving the nest,” Claire joked.
“What?” Nick said, looking adorably like Angie with his wide, startled eyes the color of warm fudge.
“Nothing, honey. You can help carry this tray into the great room in a minute. But not before you help me tell Vic about our idea to ensure Angie stays longer at her place.”
Nick broke into a wide smile. “Oh, right. And it’s a brilliant one, if I do say so myself.”
Claire rolled her eyes as she placed freshly baked brownies and chocolate almond biscotti on a second, smaller tray. “You’re just saying that because it was your idea. But I’m the one who’s done all the legwork so far.”
Vic butted in. “All right, you two, I’m dying of anticipation. Tell me about this great idea.”
“A puppy,” Nick said, grinning. “A yellow Lab. A breeder I know has a five-week-old litter.”
“A puppy?” Vic liked dogs, though she’d never owned one, mostly because with her schoolwork, then her long hours of training and, lately, her shift work, a dog wasn’t practical. Plus Karen had never wanted one. “How is a dog going to keep Angie from moving back here when I can no longer use the excuse of looking after her?”
Nick s
natched a brownie off the tray, ignoring Claire’s swat on his wrist and popping half of it into his mouth. “Easy,” he said between chewing and swallowing. “Mom’s allergic to dogs, so we’ve never been able to have one here. Not an indoor one. So Ange and her dog would have to get their own place.”
“With the right personalities, dogs have amazing therapeutic qualities,” Claire supplied. “I’ve done a lot of research the last couple of weeks. Many former soldiers swear by them, and PTSD therapy dogs are becoming a thing. Colleges are even using therapy dogs during exam time to help students deal with stress.”
“I have actually heard of that.” It boggled Vic’s mind how little professors had cared about her stress levels when she was a student. They seemed to think that piling on more of it built character. And they were half right; it either built character or it destroyed it. “So this would be a sort of therapy dog for Angie?”
“Possibly,” Claire said. “She’s been through a lot, between her two tours with the army, now this attack at the hospital. I think it would be good for her. And Labs love the outdoors, just like Angie. It could be a companion for her, you know?”
“It wouldn’t be a trained, licensed therapy dog,” Nick added. “That takes time and a lot of red tape. But this litter’s daddy is a trained therapy dog, and the mom is really good-natured too.”
“Does Angie even like dogs?”
“Loves them,” Nick said. “When she was a kid she kept bringing home strays and hoping Mom would change her mind. One day she even brought home the golden retriever that lived next to the school, claiming it was a runaway and she didn’t know where it belonged.”
Vic laughed. “A dognapper? Oh my!”
“The bigger question,” Claire said pointedly, “is are you a dog lover, Vic? Would you be okay with taking in a puppy until Angie finds her own place?”
“If it’d be good for Angie, of course, I’m all for it. But what if I become attached to this little beast?” It was code for I really don’t want Angie and her dog to leave.
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