The Doctor’s Wife
Mildred Riley
Genesis Press, Inc.
Indigo Love Stories
An imprint of Genesis Press, Inc.
Publishing Company
Genesis Press, Inc.
P.O. Box 101
Columbus, MS 39703
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, not known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without written permission of the publisher, Genesis Press, Inc. For information write Genesis Press, Inc., P.O. Box 101, Columbus, MS 39703.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author and all incidents are pure invention.
Copyright© 2010 Mildred Riley
ISBN-13: 978-1-58571-618-0
ISBN-10: 978-1-58571-618-0
Manufactured in the United States of America.
First Edition.
Visit us at www.genesis-press.com or call at 1-888-Indigo-1-4-0.
Dedication
In memory of Helen Gray Edmonds, Ph.D.
—M.E.R.
Acknowledgements
A writer’s path may be a solitary one, but my family and friends have always made it possible for me to persevere.
—M.E.R.
CHAPTER 1
“Lee, I want a divorce.”
“A what?” she asked, positive she had not heard right. “A what?” she repeated, still slightly bent over, still holding the tray, as if frozen in place and time.
“A divorce. I need, want a divorce.”
“A what?” she asked a third time, this time turning so she could look directly into his eyes. His eyes told her that he was serious—deadly, completely serious. She recoiled, as if warding off unseen blows. And so she knew—she had not misheard, had not misunderstood. Donovan Matthews, her husband of twenty-five years, her helpmate, the father of her children, wanted a divorce! Desperate, she struggled to make sense of the out-of-the-blue demand.
“You’re kidding! You have got to be kidding.”
“I’m not kidding. I want out of this marriage.”
The tray was about to slide out of her grip, so she finally set it down. Any minute now, she thought, I am going to wake up from what must be a nightmare. But she knew this was no sleeping nightmare. It was real, all too real.
“Don, you must be crazy! You’re not making any sense at all!”
Her voice was thick with emotion and her breathing shallow, labored. Feeling weak and dizzy, she felt her eyes burning with tears. She stared at the man she had loved for practically all her adult life. Struggling to grasp the full import of his words, she instinctively braced herself for more crushing news.
The room appeared shadowy and forbidding. She had decorated it herself. She had selected a custom-made cream-colored linen-lined damask fabric. The navy blue valances were made of the same material. She loved the feelings of serenity this room evoked in her.
Now, on this dreadful night, even the oak desk she and her children had given Don for his fortieth birthday seemed to mock her. He had called it the best gift he had ever received.
The children! How will they deal with this?
Barely able to look at Don, she slumped back against the sofa. Suddenly, she wanted to smash that desk, to chop it up and throw the pieces into the fireplace. She looked at the only man she had ever loved, had ever slept with, and the white-hot anger that seized her almost choked her. Her fists curled into hard balls and she wanted to attack this person she no longer knew.
Her mind leaped from one unsettling question to the next. What, or who, had changed this man from a loving husband and father into a man who could turn his back on his family? What had transformed him into this virtual stranger?
As if reading her mind, he tried to soften his next words.
“I never wanted to hurt you,” he began, “or the children.”
Willing her eyes to focus on him, she interrupted quickly, “It’s not so much hurt, although I am deeply hurt…it’s disappointment…finding out that the man I have loved and trusted is an unworthy man…a despicable liar and cheat.”
His attempt at a softened approach having failed, he blurted, “Is the truth so hard to bear, Leanne? I’m telling you now, I just have to say it, I just don’t want to live with you anymore!”
He now hoped that unqualified plain talk would deter further emotional outbursts from his wife. Hoping, too, that this would prove effective. All he wanted to do now was to leave.
But his few curt words had cut deeply, almost killed her. Seeing the shock on his wife’s face, Don knew he had to tell her the truth, knowing full well how much pain he was inflicting upon her.
Standing in front of his desk he calmly, quietly, as if explaining a procedure to one of his patients, began an explanation, of sorts.
“I’m in love with someone else, and I want to marry her.”
“So, after twenty-five years, me and your children are what…chopped liver…to be cast aside?”
She tried to keep her voice steady and controlled.
“What’s really wrong with you, Don? You never indicated there was anything wrong with us. Never told me you were unhappy.”
His face assumed a distant, cold look. A look she had never seen before, and she knew he was deadly serious. But how could that be? They had made passionate love the night before. There had to be something wrong. Was she responsible for this…this horrible crisis?
“Don,” she said as calmly as she could, despite the turmoil gripping her body. She felt sick to her stomach.
“I never meant to hurt you or the kids,” he interrupted, his solemn voice conveying what he hoped Leanne would see as deep regret.
She did detect a hint of remorse in his voice, but her feelings of anger, hurt, resentment were unabated.
“Can’t prove it by what you’ve just told me,” she spat out with undisguised hostility.
He heard the sarcasm in her voice, had expected it. Leanne had always been strong and she had never minced her words, so you always knew what was on her mind.
Despite her initial shock, he was confident she had the strength to face even this unimaginable upheaval in her life. Strangely enough, he found himself admiring her for her fierce attitude, not that this in any way could ease the stirrings of guilt he was feeling. As well it shouldn’t.
Leanne was still a beautiful woman, he mused. Despite having had two children, she had retained the extraordinary figure of her youth. Her skin had remained soft and luminous and had a tone reminiscent of Lena Horne’s in her prime. She wore her dark hair in a chin-length bob; a few strands of silver brightened her temples.
“Do I know this someone?”
“No, you don’t.” How was he going to tell her that a nurse in his office was carrying his child?
“Just as well. I might try to kill her.”
She hated his calm, expressionless demeanor. She wanted to attack him. There he stood, calm and urbane, emotionless, the man she had loved for more than twenty-five years.
He drained the wine glass, saying, “I’ll be staying at the hospital in the residents’ quarters. My lawyer, Frank Jones, will be in touch.”
She screamed, “By all means! Go! Get out!”
She watched her husband put on his jacket and pick up the small traveling bag he usually took to his medical meetings. What she saw was a man who had almost instantaneously become a stranger. Someone she did n
ot know. Perhaps had never known.
His football body was what had first attracted her to him, and when she met him at a football rally she knew he was the man she would marry. How could she not love the tall, broad-shouldered college senior whose deep brown eyes, when he looked at her, made her feel that she was the only woman on the planet?
They had married right after Don finished medical school and Leanne had earned a master’s degree in business.
Leanne recalled the quivering nerves that had assailed her as she stood facing Donovan Matthews that day. That wonderful day they bound their lives together and pledged to love each other “until death do us part.” But it was not earth that had come between them.
She had not contested the divorce. All she wanted was their cottage at the Cape. They sold the family home, each receiving half of the sale price. She did not want alimony, as she was fully capable of supporting herself. But she had insisted that Don pay for their children’s college education.
“That’s the least you can do,” she had told him.
For twenty-five years, Leanne and Donovan Matthews had led serene, fulfilling lives. She had borne his children, had helped him with his promising medical career, and had kept their home happy and comfortable. With the fateful words “I don’t want to live with you anymore,” Leanne’s whole life had fallen apart. It was as if a giant fist had slammed down on a jigsaw puzzle and scattered pieces of her life in all directions. Would she ever be whole again? Now fifty, could she put her life back together? Should she? And where would she find the strength to do so?
CHAPTER 2
Carrying a mug of hot tea, Leanne walked into the sunny patio of the cottage on the Cape.
Sitting that day on the patio, she found herself wondering, was it my fault? When had the change in our lives come? The questions spun around in her mind like a top that would not stop spinning.
Never in her life had she thought of herself as being weak or needy, but after twenty-five years, a husband’s unexpected request for a divorce would have thrown even the most unflappable, well-put-together woman. Surely, she thought, there are limits to being a rock.
She took a sip of her now-cooled tea and glimpsed a cardinal flying by her window, a streak of crimson reminding her that spring had arrived and that the world had not stopped spinning despite the unfathomable turn her life had taken.
She took one last sip of tea and set down her teacup, closing her eyes and resting her head against the back cushion. Thinking of the cardinal made her recall her children’s reactions when Don called the family into the living room.
Both children had been wary, suspicious that something was amiss when they gathered together.
“Come in, come in,” Don said as he took a seat in his favorite chair. Curtis and Jane joined their mother on the couch, one on either side of her.
Donovan had cleared his throat before speaking. Surprising herself, Leanne had inexplicably felt sorry for him. Where had that feeling come from?
“Curt, Jane, you know I love both of you, and I’m tremendously proud of you. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, I know it will be a great shock and surprise…”
“Dad,” Jane interrupted, “are you sick?” She knew how hard her father worked. “Do you have cancer? Are you dying? Oh, Dad!” she reached out to him. But his next words caused her to sit back as if someone had knocked the wind out of her.
“I’m fine, sweetheart, but I’ve asked your mother for a divorce.”
Curt’s anger had been fierce and forceful as he had railed at his father.
“You bastard! How can you do this to us, your family?”
Curtis was the firstborn and was very close to his mother.
Jane, at twenty, was close to her father, a real daddy’s girl. She had turned to her mother and demanded, “How could you let this happen? You just didn’t love Dad enough!”
Curtis in turn had berated his sister with a vengeance.
“Mom did everything for all of us and you know it!” he had protested, glaring at his father with his fists clenched at his sides.
Leanne reached for her son’s hand. Seated between her children, she knew Curtis had been stunned, was beyond belief at his father’s admission.
Already a senior at Brown University, he was planning for a career as a lawyer. Jane was a sophomore at Tufts University, expecting to pursue a teaching career.
This fateful weekend at home was one they would never forget.
Leanne had felt the tension that mounted in her children: Curtis, with his fists clenched, and Jane, whose widened eyes manifested her disbelief and horror.
Leanne knew then that somehow she had to help her children get through this ordeal, and most importantly keep a strong, loving relationship with their father, no matter how difficult it might be. Don would always be their father.
* * *
Driving across the bridge over the Cape Cod Canal, Leanne recalled the happy times the family had shared there. But her mind went back again to so many months ago now, when her life changed.
“You never told me that you were unhappy…”
Don’s reply, “Well, I wasn’t unhappy…I mean, it’s just that I love…”
She interrupted him.
“Does she have a name?”
A wry grin on his face made Leanne want to slap him.
“There’s no need to be sarcastic, Lee. I thought we could handle this in a civilized manner…”
“You thought! You thought wrong! It’s not every day that one’s husband asks for a divorce! You come home tearing my life upside down…the children’s, too, and expect me to be civil! So, I ask you again, who is she?”
Don sighed. “Her name is Alisha Morton. She’s one of the nurses on my staff.”
“Have you slept with her?”
“Well, er, yes.”
CHAPTER 3
It had started innocently enough. First there were coffee breaks in the medical center’s cafeteria.
“Ready for a cuppa?” Don had asked Alisha, his office nurse, after a protracted office visit with a difficult patient whose list of medical problems, some real, some imagined, had taxed his usual patience.
He told the patient, “Now, sir, this new medication will take care of your heart problems, I’m certain. But if you have any difficulties at all, please let me know.”
“Yes, sir, doctor, I surely will. Thank you ever so much!”
“My pleasure, sir. Stay well.”
* * *
Alisha had noticed her boss’ harried look and she responded quickly to his offer.
“Yes, I would like a cup of coffee ’bout now. It has been a rather busy morning. I’ll let Becky know. She’ll hold the patient line ‘til we get back.”
At first it was just a friendship between two people who shared a work space. If anyone had asked him about the relationship as it grew into something he had not anticipated, he would not have been able to answer.
But for Alisha, it was a dream come true…to be noticed by a physician. All of her years as a student nurse she had dared to hope that some doctor, any doctor, would notice her.
She told Becky, the receptionist, “Hold the patients back. Dr. Matthews and I are going for coffee, okay?”
“Okay by me,” the older woman replied. “And you watch your step,” she warned.
“What are you talkin’ ’bout? It’s just a coffee break!”
Alisha’s face reddened at her co-worker’s cautionary words, and she hurried out of the office, joining the doctor at the elevator.
As they rode the elevator to reach the cafeteria on the first floor, Alisha said, “Mr. Alexander can be a handful, can’t he, Dr. Matthews?”
“Sometimes, but I try to be patient with him. I know he’s getting on in years, lives alone, has no family. And sometimes I wonder if he ought to be in a rehab center or a nursing home. But he’s very independent, and wants ‘none of that stuff.’ As he once said to me, ‘I come into this worl’ by myself, goin’ out the s
ame way!’ ”
“Perhaps,” Alisha ventured. “you could make a referral to a visiting nurse to just check on him. Think he would accept that?”
“Good idea, Alisha! I’ll suggest it on his next visit. Please put a note in his chart so I’ll remember.”
“Will do, and you know, once he meets the visiting nurse he might just like her, see her as a friend, someone to call on. You know, Dr. Matthews, if you’d like, when his next scheduled visit with you comes up, I can arrange to have the nurse, him or her, come to meet Mr. Alexander. That way the relationship would begin under your recommendation and he might be more receptive to the idea.”
They reached the cafeteria and went straight for the coffee urn.
“This is on me,” Don said as he selected a muffin from a nearby tray.
“Oh, no.” Alisha pulled a small change purse from her uniform pocket.
“You can pay next time,” he said. “And besides, I owe you a consultant fee for your professional advice about Mr. Alexander.”
* * *
Even the Cape cottage could not relieve Leanne of the unrelenting shock, bewilderment and dismay that bedeviled her. And why did she sometimes wonder if the failed marriage was perhaps her fault? What had she done or not done? Was it her fault that made him want out of their marriage?
Don had always been an involved parent despite the demands of an internal medicine practice. He would make time to be involved in their children’s activities at school and in their various extracurricular sports. Jane was an excellent swimmer. His “little mermaid,” he called her. Curtis was a “four letter man” in high school track, baseball, football and ice hockey.
She was the eldest of five and her mother had encouraged her to “set an example” for her younger siblings.
Her father had not put as much pressure on her, and she adored him.
“Don’t worry…your brothers and sisters will do fine. You just be yourself and be happy; that’s what I want for you,” he had told her.
Both were gone now, killed by a drunk driver while on their way to church on Sunday. Since that time she had made it her priority to assist her siblings in any way that she could.
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