The Doctor Delivers

by Janice Macdonald

  “When we were talking about Holly the other day,” he said finally, “I told you there are times when you just have to recognize there’s nothing else that can be done. That it’s time to give up and accept the way things are. Maybe that happens in some relationships, too. There isn’t much to fight for. But I don’t feel that way about us.”

  “So what happens when the walls come up?”

  “We knock ’em down.”

  “Which might be easier said than done. You weren’t exactly willing to let me try after the press conference.”

  “It won’t be easy.” His face turned solemn. “For either of us, but I’d like to try. How about you?”

  She didn’t answer, but her brain and heart were both battling for dominance. You don’t need the complications, her brain said. You love him, her heart said. You’ll get hurt, her brain said. It’s worth the risk, her heart said. Martin was watching her, waiting for her response. On her desk was a ceremonial hammer that had been used in a celebrity auction. She reached for it.

  “Okay, I’ll try a little demolition, but if you break my heart…”

  “I won’t break your heart, Catherine. I promise,” he said softly. “Things may not always go smoothly, but if you’re willing to take the risk, I’ll do my best to make you happy. I want you to promise me something though.”

  Before she could respond, Martin’s beeper sounded. He used the phone on her desk and she went into the outer office to get coffee. When she returned, he was smiling.

  “Holly’s spiked a fever,” he said. “Her surgery’s off.”

  Catherine smiled back at him. It seemed like an omen. A good one.

  Martin took her face in his hands. “Let the demolition begin.”

  TONIGHT THEY would celebrate their new pact, Martin decided as he left Catherine’s office and started back to the unit. Whistling “Deck the Halls,” he stopped by his office to check on his mail. It seemed a lifetime ago since he’d sat in the parking lot thinking about Kenesha Washington and wondering whether there was any point to his own life. And then a woman with long brown hair and blue-green eyes had transformed it. Just turned it around.

  Holly’s surgery had been postponed. Catherine had agreed to give him another chance. Maybe even WISH could be rescued, although his altercation with Grossman might have scuttled the program. Still, life seemed filled with promise.

  “OF COURSE you didn’t hear me, you were too busy exchanging sweet nothings with your boyfriend.” Derek took a handful of jelly beans from the jar on Catherine’s desk. “About our latest failure-to-fly kid—”

  “Derek.” Catherine winced at the flip term he’d used to describe the child who had fallen out of an upper-story window. “He’s got multiple broken bones, head—”

  “Let’s turn it into a positive,” Derek said. “Find one of the E.R. docs to talk about what safety precautions parents should take to avoid these accidents, then find the mommy, see what she has to say.”

  “I already tried, she’s pretty hysterical right now.” Catherine fought a surge of irritation. She’d been on the run since Martin had left. Nonstop calls to and from reporters about the cancellation of Holly Hodges’s surgery and, in the last hour, media inquiries about the child who had fallen through the window. “The boy’s got serious head injuries.” She looked Derek straight in the eye. “I can’t start bugging his mother about talking to reporters—”

  “Did you try?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “So how do you know?”

  “If it were my son, the last thing I’d care about would be talking to the media.”

  “I’m losing tolerance for your attitude.” He frowned down at his tie—red-patterned with mistletoe—and flicked away a piece of lint. “Did you finish the publicity package for the imaging center? I need it by the end of the day.”

  “Derek.” She stared at him, dumbfounded. “I asked you if you wanted me to work on that and you quite clearly said you would take care of it.”

  He regarded her for a moment. “Perhaps I expected you to take some initiative—”

  Anger suddenly boiled over. “Listen, I’ve been knocking myself out all morning and not one damn thing I’ve done has been right for you.” She rose and walked around the desk to stand next to him. There was a psychological advantage to being four inches taller than her boss, she decided as she glared down at his face. “Why don’t you just tell me what the real problem is?”

  “Frankly, I’m extremely disappointed that your boyfriend—” he paused for emphasis “—has managed to sabotage the whole press effort with the Hodges kid. We had a news conference planned. Grossman was all set to go—”

  “For God’s sake, Derek, you’ve got to be kidding.” It was ludicrous, but the man actually saw the cancellation as a personal affront. “Martin didn’t sabotage anything. The baby got an infection. Preemies get them all the time. What do you think he did, deliberately infect her?”

  “It’s not beyond the realm of possibility. And don’t think I’m the only one to entertain the idea,” he added, apparently reading the incredulity on her face.

  She wanted to laugh. On days like this she could see why she had never wanted a career. When she’d stayed home with her children, she’d dealt with real problems, real issues, not ridiculous flights of fancy motivated by political posturing and professional jealousies.

  “Maybe you’re not aware of the fact that he struck Dr. Grossman.” Derek took the bowl of jelly beans off her desk, spent a minute or so picking out the black ones, then looked up at her. “Not satisfied with that, he tried to remove Holly’s name from the schedule. Obviously there’s very little he won’t do to get his own way.”

  Catherine folded her arms across her chest, stared down at her shoes and considered what Derek had just told her. Was this what Martin had meant when he said he’d done some stupid things to stop the surgery? A small tug of fear knotted her stomach. His conviction that surgery would prolong Holly’s suffering was unshakable. Surely he wouldn’t have… She pushed the thought away and sat down behind her desk again.

  “The fact is, Connaughton never wanted to cooperate with the publicity effort in the first place,” Derek said. “I really don’t understand why he said he would.” He dropped into the chair opposite her, slouched down, head back, face to the ceiling. “Are you aware that he did the press conference under duress?”

  “Duress?” Catherine frowned. “No, he agreed to do it. You know that, Derek. We were all there in your office.”

  “Ah, but later in the day he changed his mind, with some notion or other that Grossman was coercing Rita Hodges into signing. I ran into him when he stormed in to confront Nate.” He met her eyes for a moment. “I convinced him that if he didn’t participate, I’d fire you.”

  All the air seemed to go out of her lungs. Catherine stared at Derek openmouthed.

  “I told him you were expendable.” He drummed his fingers on the armrests of his chair for a moment, then he sat up straight. “Which is true. You’re approaching your three-month probationary period, and I’ve been giving some thought as to whether you’re really working out for us.”

  Hardly able to breathe, let alone speak, she sat there, heart beating so hard it almost hurt. She watched Derek get up and close the door. This was it then. She folded her hands in her lap to stop them shaking. He was about to fire her. Her thoughts raced. Maybe she should preempt him by resigning first. And then what? Gary would snatch the kids from her before she could get to her first interview for a new job. A wave of nausea hit her. Derek sat down again, folded his arms across his chest and looked at some spot over her shoulder.

  “A lot of changes will be taking place in the next month or so,” he started. “Ed Jordan wants to expand this department and create an assistant director position. Which is what I wanted to talk to you about.” His eyes finally met hers. “Would you be interested?”

  Catherine took a couple of deep breaths. It was as if she’d stood before the fi
ring squad, heard the click of the rifles and then, instead of bullets, they’d fired rose petals at her. Relief overwhelmed her, but quickly gave way to anger. Derek must have known how his remark about the probationary period would affect her. Once again he’d manipulated her by creating fear and uncertainty.

  In that way, he and Gary were alike. Both of them used the tactic as a way to bolster their own egos. The awareness did little to change the fact that both of them could, if they wished, do more than threaten. Both had the power to wreak actual havoc on her life. Derek, she realized, was waiting for an answer.

  “Obviously I’d be interested in the job.” She looked at him and voiced a sudden suspicion. “But something tells me there’s more to this than just the offer of a promotion.”

  “You’re right. While I’m generally satisfied with the quality and quantity of your work, I think your involvement with Connaughton compromises your efforts. You’ve resisted me every step of the way with the Hodges publicity—”

  “Derek, that’s—”

  “I’m not interested in hearing justifications. Obviously your involvement with him has priority over professional responsibilities.”

  Catherine looked at him. Face flushed, all the usual coy mannerisms gone, he was furious. She’d never seen him so angry.

  “We deal with a lot of sensitive and highly charged issues in this department. What you don’t seem to appreciate is that Connaughton is a loose cannon with an uncanny knack for getting into the spotlight. I doubt very much whether we’ve heard the last of the Holly Hodges matter. I’ve no doubt he has some tricks up his sleeve ready for when Grossman returns from Greece and—”

  “Derek, why don’t you just tell me what it is you’re trying to say.”

  “I realize that your personal life is your own concern, but I think in this case my position is justified. Unless I’m confident that you’ve ended this…fling with Connaughton, I’ll have difficulty recommending you for a promotion, or for that matter, continuing your employment at all.” He glanced at the calendar on her wall. “Today is Thursday, I’ll be at an off-site meeting all day tomorrow. Think about it over the weekend and get back to me Monday.”

  “I can give you an answer right now, Derek.” She looked directly at him. “I’m not having a casual fling with Martin. I could come in next week and tell you we’ve ended it and then we could try and keep it secret, but I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to sneak around and hide. And—” she paused “—I won’t be threatened.”

  “So you’re willing to give up your job for him?”

  “I don’t want to. I’m supporting two children.” She bit her lip again and took a deep breath. “But you’ve put me in a position where I don’t have any choice.”

  “And how do you think Connaughton will take this?”

  “I don’t know. That’s not really the point though, is it? It’s my job, my decision to make.”

  “So do I consider this your two weeks’ notice?”

  “If that’s the way it has to be.”

  “Very well.” He stood and walked to the door. “I’ll inform personnel.”

  She barely made it to the rest room after Derek left before she threw up.

  STILL NUMB with shock, she met Martin in Mulligan’s that night, not quite ready to tell him what had happened. While he got their drinks, she opened an emerald-green door marked Colleens and tried to repair the ravages to her face. The cold water and an application of makeup didn’t help much though. Every time she thought of what she’d done, tears filled her eyes again. Her hands on either side of the washbasin, she stood there shaking and crying, mascara running down her cheeks. Laughter and conversation from the bar filtered in.

  She blew her nose, checked her reflection in the mirror and reminded herself of why she’d done what she did; what she was going to do about it now and why there was no reason—well, maybe just a little—to panic. It helped. As best she could, she fixed her face again and then, still shaky, but with the tears in check, she made her way back through the crowd and found him near the end of the long line at the bar.

  “Are you all right?” Concern in his eyes, he looked at her for a moment, then put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed her against him. “You look done in. Go and sit down, I’ll be there in just a bit. It’s the same booth we had last time.” He grinned and glanced around the packed room. “Don’t ask how I managed it, but a bit of blarney helps.”

  “I’m sure it does.” She tweaked his chin and smiled up at him. He looked terrific. Tall and good-looking with his cream cable-neck sweater and dark red hair brushed back off his forehead. An excitement in his eyes that she’d never seen before. He seemed almost buzzing with it, charged with an energy that lit up his face. She pushed through the throng around the bar to the booth he had reserved, pulled off her jacket and sat down. The crowd included a smattering of people she recognized from the medical center. Two women from the marketing department, a few nurses she knew. It served to remind her that in two weeks she would no longer be part of Western’s workforce. The thought made her eyes fill and she held her breath until she got her emotions under control.

  Over at the bar, through the haze of blue cigarette smoke, she could see the back of Martin’s head. On the jukebox, a group sang “Whiskey in the Jar.” A few weeks ago, she wouldn’t have recognized the piece, but after he’d asked if she’d like to hear some Irish music, she’d gone out and bought some tapes of traditional songs.

  Her thoughts returned, inevitably, to the exchange with Derek. In a sense, he had called her bluff. Until he’d actually walked out of her office, she’d been sure he would back down. It had even crossed her mind that he might tell her he admired her honesty. Even as he closed the door behind him, she’d half thought he would turn and make one of his snide comments and the whole exchange would be forgotten. In fact, he hadn’t said another word to her for the rest of the day. Once the reality set in, she had started into his office to tell him she’d reconsidered. Twice she’d made it to his door and twice she’d changed her mind.

  And not just because of how she felt about Martin. What stopped her was the thought of allowing Derek to control her life the way Gary had. No one would have that power again. If anyone was going to wreck her life again, she would have no one to blame but herself.

  But that wouldn’t happen. As terrified as she felt by what she’d done that afternoon, she also felt a new surge of confidence. While she was up in the mountains with the children, she would update her résumé. Sunday she would check the classifieds. If Derek thought she could be an assistant director, obviously she had the capability to get another job.

  She watched Martin work his way through the crowd, a bottle in one hand, a couple of glasses in the other. What she would say to him about it, she hadn’t decided. No telling what he might do if he knew she had quit because of him. An image of him decking Derek made her grin despite herself. He’d stood up for what he’d believed and had refused to compromise his principles.

  “I think the entire population of Long Beach must be in here ordering drinks.” He set the bottle and glasses on the table and sat down opposite her. “All right, are you? I was afraid that I’d find you dead of thirst. And to be sure,” he said in an exaggerated brogue, “that would be the end of me.”

  Her heart turned over, and she had to bite her lip very hard not to cry. Until this afternoon, she’d never understood what it was about some men that would make a woman give up absolutely everything. Now she did. With a need that edged on desperation, she wanted nothing more at that moment than for him to make love to her. To lie naked under him, to feel the weight of his body on hers, to open her body to his. Terrified by the intensity of the feeling, she shivered. Beneath the long sleeves of her silk blouse, goose bumps had formed on her arms.

  “Where are you?” Martin flicked her hand with his fingers.

  Overcome by a complex rush of feeling, she shook her head and glanced down at the table. After a moment it regis
tered that instead of the Guinness he usually drank and the white wine she’d expected for herself, he had brought a bottle of champagne. Through her lashes, she glanced up at him.

  “WISH is being fully funded for two years,” he replied to her unspoken question. With a grin, he popped the cork, poured champagne into both glasses. “But I’m no longer involved with it. Jordan gave me the sack.”

  “MARTIN.” At the first part of his sentence, Catherine had started to lift her glass in a toast. Now she froze, openmouthed. “What happened?”

  “My various transgressions.” He shrugged. “I’d be long gone already if we weren’t short of neonatalogists.”

  “God, I don’t know what to say.” Catherine watched his face. “How do you feel? What are you going to do?”

  “Well, I’m very glad that WISH is still going to go on, I really am, but I want to be a part of the effort. If I’m not, there’s no reason for me to stay at Western any longer.”

  She felt her mouth go dry. The music and conversation around her faded until it seemed she could only hear her heart beating. Her hands folded on the table, she sat very still and watched his face.

  “I’ve been thinking about what else I can do. I contacted a few people I know in this area, but no one was really interested in anything like WISH. But I rang the hospital in Boston where I used to work.” He paused and then a smile broke across his face. “They want me to start a program there, in fact they’ve offered me carte blanche to go back and direct it. I can have it all, Catherine. The staff, the budget, administration’s full commitment. Everything that I’ve been knocking myself out to accomplish here at Western.”

  The words had come out in an unstoppable rush. His face was rapt, his eyes bright with excitement. Jubilation was there in the set of his shoulders, the musical cadence of his voice. It was a side of him she had never seen before.