The Architect of Revenge: A September 11th Novel

by T. Ainsworth

  Why was he going on like this? Was he afraid if he stopped talking, she’d hang up again?

  “Sorry,” Caroline said. “That’s tough. Listen…I was very rude earlier.”

  “I figured I just caught you at a bad time,” he lied.

  “Wes…” she said, “You did, and I’m sorry. I’ve changed my flight. I’m coming back tomorrow.”

  “You said you were staying—”

  “I need to see you,” she replied. “Can you do dinner tomorrow night?”

  He thought the request sounded like an invitation to attend a medical staff conference.

  “The ORs are quiet tomorrow. I’ll be off by early afternoon.”

  “So dinner?” she asked again.

  “Where?” Morgan suspected the reservations had already been made.

  “How about Leonardo’s? Seven o’clock?”

  “On Halsted?” Hoping to sound enthusiastic but not too eager he asked, “Would you like me to get you at the airport?”

  “I’m coming in through O’Hare. That’s a long way for you.”

  “Don’t mind at all.” Morgan had to try.

  “No…but thank you.” Not negotiable is what she didn’t say. “I’ll cab it.”

  Paranoia set in. While it wouldn’t be his first brush-off, it would be the first time he cared. He felt sick.

  “Can I at least drive us to dinner?” Instinct told him he wouldn’t be drinking much alcohol.

  “I’d like that. I’ll be in the lobby at half past.” She was sounding brighter. “Looking forward to seeing you.”

  Those few words helped, but Morgan still didn’t sleep well that night.

  Merrimac knew his friend was upset. Morgan’s uncharacteristic detachment was apparent the moment they met outside a patient’s room.

  “Share it, brother,” Ross said.

  “Rounds first,” replied Morgan, looking at the gathering crowd of medical students and residents. “Get it over with. We’ll do coffee later.”

  Merrimac waved the growing assembly of physicians-in-training closer. “Let’s get started,” he said. “We’ve had an exciting week. Our now-famous Dr. Morgan will lead off the discussion about post-transplant surgical care.”

  Morgan smiled meekly then rambled on for several minutes. Obvious to all, the usually good-humored attending physician was fretting. Ross stepped forward to help. In silence, Morgan drifted to the back of the group.

  Merrimac finally said, “I’m going to let the chief resident finish rounds. Dr. Morgan and I have a matter to take care of.” His hand ushered the path down the corridor. “Wes…”

  The friends walked to Merrimac’s office, got coffee, and sat down.

  “I’m lost, man,” said Morgan.

  “Let me guess her name,” Ross replied with a grin.

  Morgan told him about yesterday’s phone call.

  “You really got bit there, bro…and after only one less-than-intimate dinner?” Merrimac couldn’t stop laughing. “So my friend’s realizing there’s more to life than just sex?”

  Morgan mentioned his additional time at Lake Point Tower.

  “You and women!” said Merrimac. “Don’t blame this on me! Thought I was doing you a favor following that Bonwitt woman’s suggestion. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Can you believe she’s still bugging me about redecorating? Why don’t you just call her and ask what’s going on?”

  “Call Janie? Suicide would be better.”

  “You got that right!” Ross laughed, stretching his arms back and forth before scratching his head. “Look. Wes. You—of all people—ought to know how enigmatic females are. Me? I’ve been married for years and still can’t figure the Queen out. All I know is not to cross her. Wicked temper, know what I mean, brother?”

  “You’re not helping.”

  “All’s not lost, my friend,” replied Ross. “Despite the spell this girl’s cast on hopefully more than what lives below your waist, keep in mind you had a great week! Tonight, at least, you’ll know. Then if you still want to jump off the roof, you’ll have a legit reason. Now, bolt! Go running, go drinking, but leave.”

  “Comforting bedside manner you’ve got.” Morgan looked glum.

  “Want me to throw your rear out myself?” Merrimac’s thumb flipped toward the door.

  Twenty minutes early, his BMW idled near Navy Pier. Finally he drove to the lobby door and got out, his overcoat tails flapping in the stiff wind.

  “Wes Morgan for Caroline Pruitt,” he said to the lobby attendant.

  “Ah! Dr. Morgan! Ms. Pruitt told me to expect you. I’ll let her know you’re here, sir.” The man raised the receiver and entered a few numbers. “Dr. Morgan is here…You’re welcome, Ms. Pruitt.” He hung up. “She’s on her way.”

  “Your name, my friend, is…” Morgan asked.

  “Robert, sir.” The men shook hands.

  Morgan stood on the oriental carpet watching the numbers decrease as the elevator descended. When he heard it slow, he straightened his back and took a deep breath.

  Ding.

  The door opened.

  Caroline cast a serene smile with her lips and stepped toward him. Her white lambswool turtleneck accentuated her curves even more as she reached and took his wrist.

  “Good evening, Dr. Morgan.”

  Her simple greeting was elegant and dignified, without a hint of concern.

  “And to you…Ms. Pruitt.”

  Morgan was positive his voice cracked.

  Raising her chin, she asked, “Hungry?”

  “Of course!”

  He wasn’t sure he could eat anything right now.

  Caroline handed him her lipstick-red swing coat. As the cashmere melted in his fingers, she turned to receive the sleeves. A pair of soft black gloves went on next.

  “Nice-looking barrette,” he said, noticing the inlaid silver clasp. It gathered her auburn hair into a refined mane. He realized the compliment sounded lame.

  “Glad you like it.”

  He analyzed each of her words.

  Robert held the lobby door for them and then opened the car door for Caroline.

  “Thank you,” she said before he shut it.

  Robert hustled to the driver’s side but Morgan was already getting in.

  “Pleasure meeting you, Robert,” he said, slipping a folded twenty-dollar bill into the doorman’s hand.

  “Enjoy your evening, Dr. Morgan,” he said.

  Trying his best to keep his fear hidden, Morgan buckled his seat belt and looked at Caroline. Moving closer, she kissed his cheek.

  “Wes,” she said, “you look wonderful.”

  The maîtred’ ushered the couple through the overflow crowd at the bar to a secluded table. While Morgan held Caroline’s chair, he couldn’t miss the keen interest in the male faces around them. In the past he would have enjoyed escorting the most attractive woman in the restaurant, but now the noticeable stir she created made him tense.

  Caroline seemed oblivious to the ardent attention, focusing only on Morgan. Their conversation during the drive to restaurant had equally unnerved him. They talked like they’d known each other for years, all the while Morgan searching for what hid behind.

  A waiter brought them menus. “And to start?” he asked.

  “Wes, shall we have wine or drinks?” she asked.

  “Oh…wine, I think.”

  His angst grew.

  Caroline’s polished fingernail pointed to a spot on the wine list. “This Tuscan red, I think, and…sparkling water okay with you, Wes?” Her pale eyes projected an intensity that shot right through him but revealed nothing to be amiss.

  “Fine.” Morgan nodded.

  “Very good,” said the waiter.

  Caroline sat back slowly, turned to one side, and crossed her legs. A black stiletto boot extended from under the tablecloth as her finger ran back and forth over the tops of the turquoise globes in her necklace.

  “Glad this worked out,” she began. “That we could get together.�
�

  The wine arrived.

  “Wes, you taste it. Tell me if I did right,” she said.

  The waiter obliged.

  Morgan performed the requisite swirling, smelling, and tasting, but none of his senses was working very well.

  “Please,” he said to the waiter.

  A waterfall of Chianti splashed into both glasses.

  Caroline raised hers first. “To your successes this week,” she toasted, “and to the brave little ones and their parents.”

  “I appreciate that,” Morgan said.

  Caroline shifted slightly to one side. The bottom of her necklace slid across her breasts. Why was she teasing him?

  “You said you were hungry. Maybe we should order…”

  As she studied the menu, her hand drew her mane forward so it flowed down a shoulder.

  “A couple of appetizers?” she asked.

  “Sounds good.” His stomach suggested otherwise.

  Before Caroline drew the waiter’s attention she caught Morgan’s crestfallen focus on his wine glass.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “You tell me…”

  “Oh dear…” Her hand came across the table and grasped his. “You’re worried.”

  “Just get it over with.” There! He said it and took a swallow of wine. “Saturday was a great time…we’ll leave it at that. You have better things to do than waste time on me.”

  “Oh, Wes…No!” Her eyes teared.

  “I feel terrible,” he said with a glum face. “I was hoping this would go someplace.”

  “You’re so wrong!” she said quickly. “It’s not what you think. I really want to see you.”

  “Huh?” Morgan was more confused than ever.

  “Yesterday…” She cleared her throat then took some wine. “I’d just gotten off the phone…” Her hand still lay on his. “Wes…there’s a reason you didn’t get those Bears tickets.”

  “You told me. I was outbid.”

  “By my former fiancé.”

  Of course a woman like Caroline would have been in such a situation. How recent was their relationship? Her past didn’t bother him—well, maybe he was a little jealous of it—but what worried him was it might not be completely over.

  Without expression he asked, “The guy at the reception you threw those lightning bolts at?”

  “You saw that?”

  “Couldn’t miss it,” Morgan replied. “You did it to Janie earlier also, when she called you Cay.”

  “Well, that was different,” Caroline said delicately. “My nickname’s special. Not many people can use it…at least early on.”

  “So why would your fiancé be at the Art Institute?” Morgan asked unable to conceal his apprehension.

  “Former fiancé,” she quickly corrected him. “He’s one of the managing partners of my firm. His name’s Avery—lives in New York.”

  “Oh…”

  The waiter returned. “Would you like to order dinner?”

  “Maybe in a minute,” Caroline said.

  “No rush,” said the waiter. “I’ll be back in a bit. Enjoy the wine!”

  “There’s more you need to know.” Caroline looked at Morgan with guarded intent. “We met in the New York office when I was an intern.” She was chewing on her lip. “There was a relationship…clandestine, of course. I shouldn’t have, I know.”

  “It happens.”

  As a physician in a hospital, he knew such breeches occurred. Some worked out, most didn’t.

  “They hired me. I was so excited and happy.” She shook her head. “More like naive and in love. Avery asked me to marry him. It was all storybook—Hamptons wedding, the whole drill.” She took a sip of wine to sooth her voice. “A month before, I walk into his penthouse…he’s in bed with the newest intern.”

  “That’s pretty awful!”

  His dread became relief—and anger. That anyone could hurt this beautiful soul was incomprehensible. Even in his relationships Morgan had never been so callous.

  “It was so bad!” Caroline shifted in her chair. “I was devastated,” but her voice grew defiant.

  “I told the directors I was going to quit. By then they knew most of what had happened…and said they’d make me a full partner and move me to Chicago. I accepted…only if they’d let me finish the Downs project in New York.”

  “So that was it?” Morgan felt better…but exhausted. His hand now rested on hers.

  “Before you joined Janie and me on Saturday, Avery took his first opportunity since our breakup to come over. Insisted on having drinks later. I told him no. I already had an escort.” Her bleak grimace grew to a weak smile. “You didn’t know it yet.”

  Her irritation returned and she shook her head in disbelief. “Later he saw you bidding.”

  “So the guy likes football…”

  “Darling, you’re so naive.” Caroline’s evolving smile confirmed what she just said. “He can get those tickets whenever he wants. My company donated them. You probably didn’t notice that on the card.”

  “No, but I was incredibly distracted at the time.”

  “I called him Sunday morning, angry as a hornet. I told him I wanted those tickets. He was being a complete, total…” Despite her bitterness she didn’t utter the word she obviously wanted to use. “He said he’d bring them over. What a fool I was!”

  Morgan had never heard her voice rise before.

  “He brought them, all right, but I was foolish enough to think we could interact like adults…that this thing was behind us.” Her face filled with contempt. “Instead…he came on to me! As if nothing had changed! Then he heard my cell phone ring! He didn’t know, but figured it was you! So he made threats!”

  She was crying.

  “I told him to leave, but…he wouldn’t! So I called Robert. Bless him! He came up immediately and got him out.” The tears continued. “When I calmed down, I listened to your message, but I didn’t know what to do! I wanted to tell you what a gentleman you were. Thank you for a special evening…then you didn’t call back.”

  “Sorry,” was all he could think of to say. “I was tied up for a while. A surgeon’s life sucks. Gets in the way of other important things.”

  Still, he was glad he went home that night. To have made love to Caroline the first evening would have probably ruined any chance of a real relationship.

  “Darling,” she said, “what you do is important…and I love that it’s for children.”Caroline’s voice grew more controlled. “Thanksgiving morning after daddy and I returned from our ride, he called me and started in again. My father took the phone out of my hand and used words I hadn’t heard him say before. Avery might try to mess with my head but knows better than to get on the wrong side of my father.” Caroline sighed. “Anyway, he’s out of my life forever. Good riddance.”

  “Cay…I’m sorry all this happened. But you could have just told me over the phone, stayed with your family.”

  “No.”

  The woman would not be deterred. She did things her way.

  Caroline removed a blue linen envelope from her purse and gave it to him. He rubbed the gold embossed C in the top corner. With a mystified look, he opened it. Inside were the two tickets to the Bears game.

  “Caroline,” he said, “I don’t want these anymore.” Then he grinned ardently into her eyes. “Unless…of course, you have a warm enough coat to go with me. Soldier Field can be damn cold in December.”

  “I do.” She nodded and wiped her nose discreetly in her napkin.

  “Good, then it’s all settled.” He poured the remaining wine. With restored confidence, he said, “Nice to finally have the last word.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” They shared a smile.

  Swirling the wine, he studied its legs on the side of the glass. “One more thing…”

  “Whether the coat is warm?” she asked without irony.

  “No,” he grinned.

  “What then?”

  “Could I…” H
e paused. “Kiss you in public?”

  Caroline came in close from across the table. “Sweetheart, you’ll have to try it to find out.”

  FIVE

  Mid-December 2000

  At the far end of the waiting room, the shared look of fear on the parents’ faces vanished the moment Morgan smiled at them. It was a simple message that streamed like a banner: Everything went well.

  “Your son’s doing great! I’m proud of him,” Morgan said, sitting down on a multicolored footstool designed to look like a mushroom. “Sorry it took all morning. These repairs take time, but we fixed it.”

  He pulled off his surgical cap and looked at the damp band where it clung to his forehead.

  “Maybe I did sweat a little.”

  His laugh brought the first smile to both parents’ faces.

  “When can we see him?” asked the mother.

  “The nurses will let you know,” Morgan replied. “Right now they’re getting him settled in.”

  Everything he said was crafted to encourage confidence. Such was the nature of the world he worked in. Rarely did he have to deliver bad news, but when it happened it was given in private, with other staff to assist with the grief that followed.

  “Dr. Morgan…” Abby was behind him. He turned. “I apologize for interrupting,” she said.

  The surgeon stood up and introduced the senior surgical nurse to the parents. “This wonderful woman is my rock…and keeps my leash tight.” There were handshakes. “What’s up, Abby?”

  “You left your phone on the side table again…almost vibrated to the floor.” She smiled, handing it to him. “I took the call. I think it’s important.”

  Morgan saw Caroline’s number.

  “Thanks, Abby.” He winked at her and said to the parents, “We’ll be checking in on your son a lot. Maybe after you’ve had a chance to see him, you should stretch your legs, get lunch. Worrying is our job. You and your family have a Merry Christmas!”

  They shook hands and then Morgan and Abby walked together back to the surgery suites.

  “You talked to Caroline?” he asked with caution, knowing Abby would speak her mind if she didn’t approve.