Prescription: Love

by Pamela Toth

  “That guy in the suit’s a real jerk,” the woman added. “Lucky for the rest of us that he travels a lot, so he’s hardly ever at the games.”

  Zoe nodded numbly. By the time she managed to break away, Chris appeared to be deep in conversation with a couple of the other men. Emotions in a turmoil, Zoe managed to slip out the door.

  Chapter Twelve

  Chris had no idea what he was going to say to Zoe when he got to her apartment. He just knew that he had to see her.

  Luckily Cam had called his cell as Chris and Erik were leaving the swap meet. Chris was able to drop Erik off at the diner to meet his dad and fend off Cam’s gratitude for stepping in. After Chris assured him that he hadn’t minded missing the rodeo, he’d used the necessity of taking care of his horse as an excuse not to stay for a burger.

  When he got to Zoe’s apartment, she opened the door as though she was expecting him. As always, her beauty hit him full force, even though she didn’t appear pleased to see him.

  “Did I come at a bad time?” he asked, suddenly realizing that she might have left the sale without saying goodbye because she had other plans.

  “Not really.” She opened the door wider. “Come on in.”

  After Chris’s confrontation with Mitt-man, as he thought of the guy at the swap meet, adrenaline still pumped through his system like a drug. His arms ached to throw Zoe over his shoulder and carry her to the bedroom even though she had told him she wanted to slow things down.

  He settled for a more conservative approach, reaching out and taking her hand. Her fingers were cold to the touch, but she didn’t pull back.

  “Honey, I missed you,” he blurted, filled with the sudden overwhelming desire to lay his cards out on the table. “I’m not sure what’s been going on lately with us—” He swallowed hard and forged ahead. “Taking it slow isn’t working for me.”

  Her eyes widened and the shadows seemed to fade as her lips parted. The flush to her cheeks gave him the courage to continue.

  “Zoe, I can’t help my feelings.” He was unable to stem the flow of words as he wrapped his hands around her slim wrists. “I’m falling for you.”

  When he was done speaking he felt an enormous rush of relief. Giving her time to absorb what he’d said, he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist where the pulse throbbed.

  The world stopped for him as she drew in a breath. Afraid to move, he waited for her reaction. “Say something,” he pleaded as the silence between them spun out like line from a fishing reel. “Tell me that I’m not alone in this, that you feel something for me, too.”

  A frown formed a tiny pleat between her brows and her eyes darkened. His heart went into free fall as she disentangled her hands from his loose grip. He wanted to press his fingers to her lips to prevent the words he already knew with a sharp, piercing pain to his chest that he wouldn’t want to hear.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, shaking her head. Her face had gone pale. “Nothing’s changed and I’m not staying when my residency is over.”

  Not even for you. The unspoken words resounded in his head with a deafening cacophony of sound.

  The excitement, the determination, the adrenaline that had been driving Chris so urgently leaked away, leaving him feeling weak and shaken. And unbearably, blindingly stupid. What had he been thinking to rush over here and push her like this after she had asked him to take it slow?

  “Forget what I said.” He kept his smile steady by sheer force of will. “No reason we can’t keep it light and have some fun.”

  She began shaking her head while he was still talking. “It wouldn’t be a good idea. Not now.”

  Not after he’d blown it by shoving his feelings in her face like a cream pie on a tacky comedy show.

  “Why not?” he asked anyway, cupping her cheek with his hand.

  She turned her face away from his touch, her eyes downcast. “I don’t want…either of us to get hurt,” she whispered.

  Her hesitation barely registered as he took her hand again and pressed it against his chest. “I’ll hurt if I can’t keep seeing you,” he said roughly. “We’re good together. We can keep on…enjoying each other’s company,” he finished, picking his words carefully so he wouldn’t sound crass.

  She enjoyed making love with him, he knew that as surely as he knew how to fix a dislocated shoulder. This time she merely shook her head without speaking, but regret was plain to see in her expression.

  “I understand,” he said without understanding anything. He cleared his throat, but the lump stayed lodged there like a tumor. “Don’t worry about work,” he continued clumsily. “I won’t, um, embarrass you or anything.”

  Her smile was sad. “I know that.”

  Finally he realized there was nothing left to say. This was all his fault for charging over here like an idiot on speed.

  He moved one hand in a meaningless gesture, part surrender and part goodbye wave. When he reached for the knob and wrenched open her door, she didn’t attempt to stop him. Gritting his teeth against the fresh flood of disappointment, he walked away.

  Zoe was still seated on the couch with an afghan pulled over her, staring unseeingly through the front window at the wall of a nearby building as daylight turned to dusk. She had lost track of how long it had been since she finally gave up on her chores. The laundry she’d begun sorting was still in a heap on the bedroom floor, the mattress stripped and waiting for clean sheets, the vacuum in the middle of the living room floor.

  A wineglass sat on the coffee table, its contents mostly untouched. Getting drunk to forget her problems had never been her style and she wasn’t about to begin now.

  Especially not because Chris had offered her a glimpse of something she didn’t dare think about, not after years of schooling, studying and unwavering determination to achieve her goal. It would be too easy for her parents to continue ignoring Zoe if she stayed on in Hayseed Gulch, Montana, but when she became successful back in L.A. with the type of practice they understood and admired, they would have no choice but to acknowledge her achievement.

  She would finally win their approval.

  As she imagined her father introducing her to some of his hotshot friends at a fancy Hollywood premier, his chest puffed up with pride as he described her latest success, the cordless phone on the side table rang loudly. The sound startled her so badly that she nearly rolled off the couch.

  The hospital always called her cell, as did most of her friends if they didn’t feel like e-mailing. Putting aside the afghan and unfolding her legs, she approached the phone cautiously, as though it might explode, and peered at the caller ID. When she saw the name, she grabbed up the receiver, afraid the person at the other end might hang up without leaving a message.

  “Mom?” Zoe asked. “Is everything all right?”

  “Sure, Babe,” Patrice replied. “I had a free minute before my ride arrives to pick me up, so I thought I’d check on my favorite daughter. How’s it going out there in cowboy country?”

  Zoe’s throat tightened on a wave of sudden emotion. It took a moment for her to get a grip on herself so that she wouldn’t sound weird. Knowing Patrice, she’d be too busy multi-tasking, going over her listings or checking her schedule on her PalmPilot to notice unless Zoe had a full-blown crying jag.

  “Nothing much is happening here,” Zoe said, clutching her wine. “How about you? Any big sales to report?”

  Tired to the bone, Zoe pulled up in front of her apartment after work and dragged herself from her car. If she had thought the rumors had been embarrassing when she started seeing Chris, they didn’t compare to the gossip since word got out about their breakup.

  How was she supposed to concentrate on the practice of medicine while she was busy ignoring the fallout? The sympathetic comments and compassionate glances were bad enough. The smirks, winks and how-does-it-feel grins from a few of the male staff members whose passes she had rejected were worse. Even those incidents ranked lower on the discomfor
t level than seeing Chris at work.

  She hadn’t been called down to E.R. all morning, but her luck ran out at lunch where she had watched a female tech sidle up to Chris in the chow line like a snake that was about to swallow him whole. At least he hadn’t appeared to be nursing a broken heart.

  Later Zoe had nearly run him down when she came around a corner. They had both jumped back and made their excuses, but not before she’d seen the fatigue that lined his face and the lack of sparkle in his eyes.

  Had she done that, she wondered again as she hurried through the rain to her apartment. Had she hurt him? It was the last thing she had intended.

  “Zoe! Zoe, honey, wait up!”

  She spun around, openmouthed with shock, in time to see her mother slam the door of a dark sedan, pop open a black umbrella and come rushing toward her.

  It served her right for thinking this day couldn’t get much worse, she thought dazedly. “What are you doing here?” she blurted, hardly caring how rude she must sound.

  Patrice took her arm. “Let’s not stand here in the rain,” she said briskly. “I’ve come too darned far to get soaked in front of your door.”

  Meekly Zoe followed her, not at all surprised that her mother seemed to know exactly which way to go. She never went into a situation without doing her research first. Knowing Patrice, she had probably downloaded the floor plan of Zoe’s building off the Internet.

  Zoe’s exhaustion seemed to triple, pressing her down like a giant boulder as they went silently up the steps. When she got to her entry, she fumbled with the key while her mother shook out her umbrella.

  “You can leave that here,” Zoe said as she opened the door.

  “Won’t someone steal it?” Patrice looked around warily, as though expecting a gang of umbrella thieves to leap from the shrubbery at any moment.

  “No one will bother it,” Zoe said. “This isn’t L.A.”

  “Tell me about it. Do you have any idea how many flights I’ve been on?” With a last glance over her shoulder, Patrice followed Zoe inside.

  The damned umbrella would probably blow away and Zoe would never hear the end of it. “I don’t even know why you’re here,” she replied, her disgruntled tone reverberating in her own ears before a sudden thought drove the air from her lungs.

  “Is something wrong with Dad?”

  Her mother snorted as she unzipped her coat. “Do you have time to hear my list?” She reached out to pat Zoe’s arm. “Divorcée humor, dear. As far as I know, your father is just peachy except for that paunch he’s developed.” She made a tsking sound. “And those unfortunate bags under his eyes. He really should see someone about those.”

  “Is something wrong with you?” Zoe asked, tension clutching at her like an eagle’s talons.

  “Can’t I look in on you without there being some kind of family crisis?” her mother demanded, holding out her coat. “Would you hang this up somewhere?”

  The notion that Zoe’s mother would come all this way to look in on her was so foreign that Zoe was at a loss how to respond. Obediently she took off her jacket and hung them both in the closet.

  “This looks like a decent place, but it could use a decorator,” her mother murmured as she stood in the middle of the living room. “Could I have some tea after I use the little girls’ room?”

  “Of course.” Zoe swallowed her impatience as she put the kettle on the stove. As usual, Patrice was the one running the show. “I’m sure you know where it is,” Zoe added.

  When her mother came back, Zoe pulled open the drawer where she kept the tea bags. “I have chamomile and red zinger.”

  Patrice sighed as she sat on the couch and crossed one leg clad in navy wool over the other. “Either one would be fine.” Her tone made it clear that neither was acceptable so she would make do with whatever Zoe chose.

  Silently Zoe fixed the tea. After she had set both cups on the coffee table, she perched on the edge of a tweed armchair that faced the couch and tried to stifle her impatience.

  “How was your trip?” she asked, trying to figure out what the hell she was supposed to do with her unexpected guest.

  Despite her stylish hair and fresh makeup, Patrice looked tired. She shrugged, ignoring her tea. “First class isn’t what it used to be, but the drive from Butte was okay.”

  “Why are you here?” Zoe blurted.

  As though she could read her daughter’s mind, Patrice sat back on the couch and folded her hands. “There was something in your voice when we talked on the phone.” She glanced away, pressing her lips together as if to steady herself. Her apparent hesitation was totally out of character.

  “You jumped on a plane because I sounded funny?” Zoe demanded.

  Her mother’s eyes blazed. “I was worried, okay? I know you’re an adult and that you can take care of yourself, but I still have a mother’s normal concerns.”

  The flow of words halted as though she had run out of steam. She looked down at her hands and then back at Zoe. “You’re a bright, wonderful woman, but you try too hard to be perfect. Sometimes I’m afraid that maintaining the facade will burn you up.”

  Zoe had no idea what to say. Confused, she reached for her cup, but her hand shook, so she set it back down. “I never knew that you could read me so well,” she finally admitted. “It’s a bit overwhelming.”

  Her mother’s smile trembled as she patted the cushion next to her on the couch. “Come sit over here and tell me what’s wrong.”

  With a sigh of defeat, Zoe did what she was told. Once she began to talk, she couldn’t stop. By the time she was done, she had to excuse herself in order to get a box of tissues from the bathroom.

  “Chris and I both knew I’d be leaving when my residency is done,” Zoe concluded after she had blotted her eyes and blown her nose. “Our careers are taking us in two different directions.”

  Silence fell as she sipped the tea that was now barely warm.

  “Don’t make the same mistakes I did,” her mother said after a moment.

  “I thought you’d approve!” Zoe exclaimed. “I want to be successful so you and Daddy will be proud of me.”

  “Despite all our differences, your father and I have always been proud of you,” her mother said firmly. “It’s not our approval that matters anyway, it’s what you want that’s important.”

  “I’m doing what I want,” Zoe said automatically.

  Patrice patted her hand. “Then you can’t go wrong.” She glanced at the kitchen. “I’m hungry. Is there anywhere in this town to get a good meal?”

  Zoe wasn’t ready to revisit any of the places she’d gone with Chris, so they ended up eating at a small place near the motel where her mother had already checked in. Since her flight left Butte first thing in the morning and Zoe had to be at work, they said goodbye in the parking lot. It was dark, but the rain had stopped.

  “Thank you so much for coming,” Zoe said, fighting fresh tears. “It’s great to see you. Are you sure you can’t stay longer?”

  “I’ve got a meeting,” Patrice replied. “I’ll leave a message on your cell in the morning.” She stroked Zoe’s arm. “Let me know when you’ve got time to come home for a visit and I’ll send you an airline ticket.”

  Zoe hesitated, heart thumping hard. “Before you go, may I ask you something?”

  Patrice’s expression turned wary. “Of course. What is it?”

  “Do you have any regrets?” Zoe blurted.

  Her mother frowned. “About what?”

  “About the choices you’ve made,” Zoe persisted.

  Patrice pressed her lips together. “I wish I had been more flexible, more willing to consider my options,” she finally admitted. “There’s more than one path to success, you know. Whichever one you choose, you’ll be fine. I believe in you.”

  A car pulled into the parking lot and two couples got out, talking and laughing as they walked by.

  “It’s too late for Chris and me,” Zoe said regretfully.

  “Only if y
ou let it be,” her mother replied firmly, giving Zoe a hug. “Now go on home and get some rest. You’ve got an early shift in the morning.”

  “Thanks for everything,” Zoe leaned over and kissed her mother’s cheek. She was wearing a new scent, something light and tropical.

  Before Zoe drove away, full of feelings and reactions to the visit, she tooted the car horn and Patrice waved.

  After her mother’s visit, Zoe was so busy at work that she hardly had time to think about their conversation. Each time she remembered her mother’s comment about always being proud, she felt a warm glow in the region of her heart. Until now, Zoe had never realized how much pleasing her parents had influenced her choices. They hadn’t been disappointed in her, just too caught in their own lives to pay much attention to their only child.

  The knowledge that she no longer had to battle so hard for their approval was somehow freeing. It allowed her to think about what she wanted to do.

  Nervously she knocked on the partly open door to Dr. Chester’s office.

  The director looked up, then beckoned Zoe to enter. “What’s up?” Dr. Chester asked as she sat back and folded her hands behind her head. It seemed as though the older woman was always busy. Zoe wondered whether she ever got tired.

  “Am I interrupting?” She hovered in the doorway.

  “I’ve got a minute or two.” Dr. Chester’s gaze narrowed. “Something up? Would you like to close the door and sit down?”

  Zoe did so, still not entirely sure why she was here. Once she was seated, she plucked at the hem of her skirt. “I’ve been thinking about our last talk,” she said haltingly, “the one about the need for women’s healthcare in this area.”

  “I remember.” The older woman’s expression brightened. “Have you reconsidered the possibility of staying?”

  “I’m not sure.” Zoe squirmed restlessly, unused to having doubts about her decisions. “It partly depends on some…other issues.”

  “Ah-hah.” Dr. Chester smiled. “If I’m not being too nosy, could one of those other issues have blond hair, a killer smile and a fondness for western boots?”