by C. M. Stone
Her mother raised one eyebrow. “Have you been saving all those words for the past twenty-six years?”
She cleared her throat. “Some of it.”
“Well.” Anita Morales frowned for a moment then shrugged. “If you want to go into pediatric research, that’s what you should do.”
Darla adjusted her glasses with one finger, as if her sight could have had any impact on her hearing. “It is?”
“Of course. Did you think I wanted you to do things you didn’t want to do?” Her mother scoffed and put her hands on her hips. “Really, you actually thought that? Darla, I’ve been pushing you because I thought this was what you wanted. I was trying to be encouraging. If it’s not what you want, then don’t do it.”
“Oh.” Darla deflated a little. The lack of an argument was almost a letdown.
“But from all that, it doesn’t sound like you want to come home either.” There was no question in the statement, just a flat declaration that couldn’t be argued with. The two of them locked eyes, and Darla felt a knife twist in her heart at the hurt in her mother’s eyes.
“I want to make this my home.” The words were soft, difficult to push out.
Her mother’s arms wrapped around her to pull her into a fierce hug. She was stiff at first with surprise, then relaxed into the embrace. Just like when she was a child, her mother’s hair had that scent of disinfectant to it that should have been anything but the comfort it symbolized.
“I don’t know what I’ll do without you,” Anita said.
“We can take trips and visit and you could even move out here because they always need more experienced nurses and it doesn’t have to be terrible, Mama. The past few weeks have been really good for me. I feel like…like a butterfly fresh out of the cocoon.”
Her mother gave her a teary-eyed smile. “You do look beautiful. I like what you’ve done with your hair.”
Darla automatically patted at her curls, feeling a twinge of self-consciousness, then shook her head. “Thanks, but I meant more like I’d suddenly learned how to fly.”
“Well. Flying is all well and good, but you’ve got other things to learn, too. We have a test to prepare you for.”
The words were all no-nonsense and could even sound a little cold, but Darla took them in the spirit intended and only felt loved.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The cake for the retirement party had clearly been designed to be cheery. It had also clearly failed. A lopsided yellow smiley face beamed up at Jackson with the words “Happy Retirment” beneath it. Jackson’s hand itched for a tube of icing to add the missing “e”, but no one had one and the mistake hadn’t been noticed at the bakery. He hoped it tasted better than it looked.
Elizabeth McGaffey chuckled beside him. “Oh dear. That’s really quite fitting for a retiring professor, isn’t it?”
He gave her a weak smile. “And I suppose the smiley face is for retiring from surgery. Doesn’t it make you want to get a scalpel and fix it?”
“Hm, no. That seems like it would fall under plastics. If they put raspberries between the layers like I asked I could see about doing something if it loses too many units.”
Jackson was quiet for a moment. That look in Darla’s eyes when she shut him out had been haunting him ever since he left her apartment. “It won’t be the same here without you.”
“I think you’ll be surprised by how little the place changes in my absence. Hospitals have an equilibrium that’s hard to push off course. Someone else will become the new McGaffey and things will continue on.”
“No such thing as a new McGaffey.”
“Of course there is. I’m still hoping it’ll be you.”
“I doubt it will be. I’ve really fucked up.”
Jackson turned to lean against a table in the lounge. A few people had trickled in and out so far, but no real crowd had gathered, which was typical for these sorts of things, he’d found. Those who were available would come in when the cake was cut, a speech might be given, and that would be it for the most part. Thirty-five years of her life at the same hospital and all she’d get would be a few hungry people slipping in to steal her cake. What had seemed like the pinnacle of a career to him before now just left him feeling disgusted.
McGaffey’s brow furrowed with concern. “What have you done?”
“Possibly messed up Darla’s career and then told her it was a good thing. The chief wasn’t going to give me his recommendation unless I could keep her here in trauma, but I don’t even care about that part any more. I thought I did, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that she’s leaving, and I’m an idiot.”
“Did you tell her you’re in love with her?”
He winced. “Is it that obvious?”
“People don’t usually get this upset over people they don’t care about. It was an easy guess.” She opened a bottle of water to take a sip from it, then settled herself neatly into a chair. Her glasses were low on her nose so she could watch him over their edge, making him feel like a clueless med student all over again. “You can’t control what other people decide, Jackson. You know that old saying about how if you love someone, you’ll let them go?”
He sighed, nodding. “And if they don’t come back, they were never yours to begin with? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“God, no. I was just going to point out that it doesn’t matter if you love someone or not. You have to let everyone go, unless you plan on chaining them up in your basement.”
He laughed in spite of himself. “Okay, point made. I don’t have control over this.”
“No, you don’t. You can tell her you love her and you can do everything you can to make sure she’s happy with her decision, but that’s all you can do. And all you can do with the chief is your job. You do it well, and we all see that. If he doesn’t, there’s nothing you can do to force him to. All we have control over is ourselves, and then, only if we’re lucky.”
“That sounds brutally fatalistic.”
“You’re damn right it is.” She hit her cane on the floor for emphasis. “Life’s a fatal condition, Jackson. If you haven’t figured that out by now, I never taught you anything.”
He sighed. “If this is supposed to be a pep talk, I don’t think it’s working.”
“It’s something I should have said to you a long time ago. Especially after Amy.”
For once, the name didn’t make him flinch. Regret and sadness were still there, hovering in the background, but they didn’t overwhelm him. “What does this have to do with her?”
“It wasn’t your fault, Jackson. You had nothing to do with her getting hit, but you did give her a lot of happiness before she died. That’s all anyone can ask.”
“Are you telling me I just need to accept that I’m losing Darla and this promotion?”
“No, I don’t know how things are going to turn out, but I do know that you can’t control everything. You can’t control the board or Darla or if you’re going to choke to death on a ham sandwich tomorrow. Do what you can and accept the rest.”
He bowed his head, but nodded. “I’m trying.”
The chief stepped in, frowned at the cake, and then focused on Jackson. “DeMatteo, do you have a minute?”
“Yeah, I do.”
As he walked past McGaffey, the older woman gave him a meaningful look. “It’s a fatal condition. Make it count.”
Outside in the hall, the chief led him away in the direction of his office. “What’s fatal? Should I be worried?”
“No, she was just talking about life.”
In the chief’s office, Singh shut the door, then took a seat across the desk from him. As pessimistic as McGaffey’s talk had been, he found himself strangely comforted by it. The nervousness he expected to feel as he looked at the chief failed to materialize.
“Setting aside what we discussed yesterday, how have things been going with Morales?”
It was the question he’d been dreading and of course it had to be the first o
ne out of the chief’s mouth. Jackson leaned back in his chair and cast a look toward the ceiling, as if some answer would be delivered from heaven for him. But there was nothing to be done but be honest.
“Great, as far as the work goes. She has some rough spots, but that’s all to be expected with a first-year resident. She’s intelligent, passionate, seems to have a real knack for surgery and once she got settled in she has nerves of steel.” He swallowed, preparing for the next part. “But I do think her strengths might lie more in pediatrics than trauma.”
The chief frowned. “Are you driving another intern off or is this your recommendation for transferring her?”
“No. This has nothing to do with me. I’ve done everything a good mentor is supposed to do, including identifying her strengths and guiding her toward them. What she decides from here is up to her. To try to control her choice is…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “It was a shitty deal from the start, Chief.”
“You think my suggestions are shitty?” His expression was unreadable. Was that controlled fury in his eyes or cool detachment?
The impulse to lie and try to work things in his favor rose, but Jackson pushed it aside. That was what Dick would do. “In this case, yeah, I do.”
Singh was quiet for a moment. The only sound in the office was the steady tapping of his pen against the edge of his desk. “That’s quite a thing to say considering some of your poor choices recently.”
“You want someone who’ll lie and kiss your ass? Get Dick on the tenure track, then. I don’t want to do that. Yeah, some of my students fail out of my classes and a lot of interns don’t want to work with me, because I make it hard. I don’t shield them from the fact that people will die if they make the wrong choices. Some people can’t deal with that. Better to figure that out while they’re learning than when someone’s life is actually in their hands.” He leaned forward slightly. “But the students who pull through my classes? Those are the ones with fellowships now. Those are the ones who pushed themselves to find their own excellence, and I don’t know if they would have pushed that hard if I didn’t make them.”
“I see.” The chief made a note on a pad of paper and Jackson felt his heart sink.
The lack of reaction was likely a bad sign, but what was there to be done about it? As McGaffey had said, he couldn’t force the chief to see what he didn’t want to see. He raked a hand through his hair, taking a deep, calming breath.
“You know having a relationship with an intern wouldn’t make you look good to the board if they knew.”
“Maybe people will finally believe me now when I tell them I don’t think I’m perfect.” He shrugged. “But it’s over anyway. If anyone has to suffer for it, I’d still prefer it be me. She doesn’t deserve having her reputation harmed.”
“I see.” Another note on that damned paper. “So what do you think your biggest weakness is?”
His eyes rolled before he could stop himself. Half a dozen cliché answers for such a cliché question came to mind, but there was only one honest one. “I’m a control freak who’s always trying to fix everything.”
Singh chuckled, nodding. That unreadable of his mask finally slipped. “You are, but you’ve finally come clean. I think ensuring you and Morales don’t work together again should be fine. You’re right that she doesn’t deserve to suffer for it.”
Nothing about removing her from trauma. Just his service. At least she couldn’t blame him for that. He breathed a bit easier, nodding. “Thank you.”
“And I’m sorry for giving you such a hard time over this, but I had to be sure no one could argue I was playing favorites. They all know how much I admire you.”
The meaning of his words sank in. Jackson laughed as well, relief loosening up the tension that had been locked around his rib cage for far too long. “You do? I never would have guessed.”
“You’re good at what you do, DeMatteo, and I think you’ve gotten even better over the past couple weeks. You have my recommendation.”
The chief stood and Jackson joined him to shake his hand, his mind reeling. McGaffey had already spoken on his behalf to the board, which meant his promotion was nearly guaranteed. The minor increase in pay would be nice, but the change in position was of far greater importance. New opportunities would open up because of this. His long-term goals were all coming within reach.
And it all felt empty.
When it was over, what would the prestige of his career leave him with besides a badly decorated retirement cake? He’d go to an empty home, maybe see his sister and Chris once a week and work. Everyone else he loved was either dead or he’d pushed them away.
Out in the hall he made a call. It rang twice before being answered. “Hello?”
“Hey Dad. Listen, I’ve got some vacation time I should really use, and I was wondering about visiting you guys.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Nancy took the offered chart from Darla’s hands and greeted her with a smile. “How does it feel to almost be a licensed doctor?”
“About the same as it did right after I took the test.” Darla laughed a little and shook her head. “I’ll finally relax when they finish processing my application.”
Switching to the residency program in the children’s hospital had been remarkably painless after all of Darla’s worry over it. She saw less of Brandon and Maggie, but they hardly had time to socialize at work anyway. It was difficult, as she knew it would be, but satisfying. There was really only one thing she could complain about. She just couldn’t shake the longing for Jackson.
Nancy nodded. “Mine took two months.”
Darla groaned at the thought, closing her eyes. “Don’t tell me that. The woman I spoke to said since I had everything organized properly it could take as little as two weeks. I want to believe her.”
“Well…I wouldn’t want to shake your faith.”
Once Nancy was on her way, Darla checked the time on the wall of the residents’ lounge. She had enough time to eat something and possibly even take a nap, assuming she wasn’t paged for anything. Both sounded good.
“Darla.”
Jackson’s voice came from behind her. She hadn’t been sure she’d hear him say her name again, especially not after she’d transferred to the children’s hospital. All her effort to put distance between them was wasted if he didn’t plan on leaving her alone.
She let another heartbeat pass without responding, giving herself time to prepare, then turned around. Jackson was standing in the doorway with his arms braced against the frame, those green eyes of his drinking her in as if his life depended on it. His eyes might as well have been his hands for all the intimacy of that look, and when his gaze finally locked with hers she shivered. He must not have been working, because he wore a pair of jeans that looked like they’d been tailored just for him. All she wanted to do was touch him again.
He’d tried to make decisions for her. He’d refused to trust her judgment. She had to remind herself of that, repeating it like a mantra in her mind to push away temptation. Drawing on her anger for strength, she squared her shoulders and raised her chin in defiance.
“Yes, Dr. DeMatteo?”
The other two residents in the lounge were listening. She could see that people out in the hall had noticed the tension between them and were staring, but staring was nothing in comparison to talking and she was sure they’d do that endlessly if she left with Jackson. Worse than that was the way her gut churned at the thought of being alone with him.
The attention didn’t escape Jackson’s notice either. “Could we speak privately?”
“I don’t think that would be appropriate.”
He paused, genuine surprise crossing his face. His lips parted to speak, then closed again. After a moment he nodded. “Then we’ll speak here.”
“What?” That churning in her stomach would put a washing machine to shame. She took half a step back, though there was no possible escape with him blocking the doorway.
“I�
�m an idiot, and I was so scared of losing you that I chased you away, but I thought I was protecting you.”
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “You were wrong.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.” He looked over his shoulder to the hall outside, which had grown silent. Every nurse, doctor and attendee had actually stopped to listen and stare. When he looked at her again she dearly regretted not going somewhere more private with him. “Whatever you decide to do with yourself is the right choice for you, and I hope it makes you happy, but you need to know everything before you make that choice.”
She gave a small gesture around the room. “I’m pretty sure I’ve already made all my important choices.”
“I love you.”
Her heart stopped for a moment before it began again, racing this time. “What?” The single word was barely above a whisper.
“I love you. I want you happy and doing whatever feels right for you, and I never set out to push you toward anything.” He finally stepped forward from the doorway and closed the distance between them to take her hands. “I can survive without you, but it’s not the life I want.”
“Jackson, I’m not—”
“Please let me finish before you tell me to go away,” he interrupted. “I want you to have all the facts this time. When I told you to think about pediatrics, that wasn’t me trying to push you out of trauma. That was just me being honest about your strengths.”
She looked down at their hands, thinking that over. He couldn’t have been using her as much as she feared if he was risking things that early on. “You were right.”