The Doctor's Wife

by Mildred Riley

  “Have you made any plans?”

  “Yes. The house is up for sale, and I do have a lawyer…told Don he’d have to pay the kids’ college tuition. And I don’t want alimony.”

  “Why not?

  “Sharla…” Leanne’s voice cracked, and she could hardly say the tormenting words.”Sharla, Sharla, the…girl is pregnant!” she cried, throwing her arms up in the air in a gesture of defeat. “Did you hear what I said? Pregnant! At fifty, Don is going to be a new father!”

  “But, Lee, you deserve something!”

  Despite her tears, Leanne managed a wry, lopsided grin.

  “Not to worry, honey, I’ve already cleared out the joint bank account. He’s going to agree to the sale of some of our investments. I’ll get half of the sale of the house. I have my real estate business. And I’ll own the cottage. Want that for the children.”

  “But are you sure you are going to get a fair shake out of this marriage? After all,” Sharla persisted, “you gave this man twenty-five years of your life! Twenty-five! That’s no stroll in the park!”

  Leanne nodded. “I know, but I almost feel as if I would be seeking pay for services rendered. And girl, that’s not a good feeling, not at all.”

  “I know it’s not good, but you must be practical. There’s his Social Security pension. You may be entitled to some of that. Any annuities…”

  “My lawyer has told me that he has to assemble a panel of professional experts to sort out all of those things.”

  “Well, that’s good. I’d hate to think that you would have to go it alone.”

  “I do trust Alan. I’m depending on him to see me through this…mess.”

  CHAPTER 7

  The call came to Don a few minutes before he was to see his first patient.

  “Yes, sir!” he responded to the deep voice of the president of the medical association. “How may I help you, sir?”

  “Please come to my office at ten. I have something to discuss with you.”

  “I’ll be there,” Don said. He sat still, his hand on the receiver, and stared out the window of his office. His view of the manicured grounds, the blooming forsythia, the delicate pinks of the magnolias usually relaxed him. But today he sensed it was not medical matters that Dr. John Alexander wanted to talk about.

  He thought, My personal life has nothing to do with my professional life. I’ll have to let him know this at the outset. In fact, I insist that he see it that way.

  As he sat there thinking, he recalled how everyone always thought that he and Leanne were the perfect couple. He thought so, too, at first. Leanne was attractive, smart, witty, capable and seemed solidly grounded in what she wanted out of life. He adored her, admired her, felt lucky to love such a wonderful person who loved him and put him first.

  But somehow his life with Leanne had become routine, although they both enjoyed their sexual life, which lately seemed to have lost the spontaneity they had once had. They did enjoy the moments whenever they occurred.

  Don had noticed, too, how quickly Leanne left their bed instead of remaining in his arms as he wanted her to do.

  Something about “cleaning up.” But he thought it was rather an opportunity to “wash him away.”

  Now it had become a humdrum, mundane matter-of-fact existence. No longer glorious, excited lovers. They had become more like companions, rearing their children, pursuing their separate careers, earning income for the support and welfare of the family.

  He thought about Alisha and the immediate sensation he felt in his quickening groin alerted him. He wanted her, loved her. He had to admit that initially the attention of a younger woman had excited him. And she did not look at all like Leanne.

  Tiny, about five feet tall and weighing perhaps a hundred and ten pounds, she had a glowing cocoa brown skin that made him want to touch her. Her figure was neat and trim. Because she played tennis, her arms and legs were well-toned.

  She wore her dark hair in a sleek chin-length bob that swirled gently around her face. To Don, she was like a breath of fresh air. She had brought a newness, a refreshing aura that he no longer saw in his wife.

  He found himself looking forward to seeing her every day, sharing their coffee breaks. And he noticed her absence whenever she took a day off.

  * * *

  After he’d seen his nine a.m. patient, Don informed Becky Long that he would be away from the office around ten.

  “Fine, Doctor. I’ll hold the patient line until you get back.”

  “Thanks.”

  He took the elevator to where the association’s fourth floor offices were located; billing, conference room, and the corporate offices were situated around a central lounge area. Comfortable chairs, tables with lamps, periodicals on a coffee table in the center, plus a wall-mounted television set all helped visitors relax while waiting to be called into one of the various offices.

  John Alexander was a surgeon, the founder and president of the Atlantic Medical Associates. He had been a running back for a National Football League team and when his contract with the team expired, he enrolled in a medical school.

  Tall, about six feet, four inches, he commanded a strong presence in the medical group.

  Don Matthews, an associate for ten years, was one of the organization’s most productive members. His practice had a larger roster of patients than any other practitioner.

  He entered the president’s outer office, well decorated with soft beige walls, matching linen draperies at the windows at the opposite ends of the room, and various seascape watercolors on the walls. The furniture was leather chairs and a leather sofa behind a coffee table covered with carefully arranged magazines. It was a room meant to signify confidence. Don knew the man’s professional credentials and football memorabilia were to be found in the inner office. A room that also spoke of confidence.

  The president’s secretary greeted him as he entered the reception room.

  “Good morning, Dr. Matthews. How are you?”

  “Fine, thank you,” he said to the secretary.

  “He’s expecting you. You may go in.”

  Don tapped lightly on the door, heard a man’s voice say, “Come in. Yes, Don, come in! How are you?”

  Dr. Alexander stood up behind his desk and extended his hand.

  Don grasped the offered hand with a firm handshake, hoping to convey his position in the upcoming confrontation.

  “I’m fine, fine,” Dr. Alexander said. “Like some coffee? Drink? Have a seat,” he pointed to a chair.

  “No thanks, John, I don’t have much of my time…have patients waiting.”

  Maintaining eye contact with John Alexander, who remained seated, and speaking in a controlled, firm voice, Don was determined to make his position clear.

  “First of all, John, I’m assuming you called me in here because of certain rumors you may have heard.”

  “Well, I…”

  “Okay, before you go any farther, let me clarify something. What I’m guessing you heard is not a rumor. My wife has agreed to a divorce and I am involved with another woman and plan to marry her as soon as the divorce is final. Now, despite the fact that this is all personal, I am telling you so that you will have firsthand knowledge of the facts.”

  “Thanks for the clarification, Don, but let me say that as an officer of this association, I am duty-bound to protect its interests, which includes looking into anything that could possibly negatively impact those interests. Federal laws apply to everything we do, including personal interactions. And so my inquiry is not personal; it is part of my professional responsibilities. I hope we are both clear on that.”

  “Yes, we are, and I hope my intentions are clearer now,” Don responded.

  “I do believe they are, and thanks for coming in, Don,” Dr. Alexander said, signaling that the meeting was over.

  CHAPTER 8

  Looking back, Leanne did have a vague sense of a slight change in their relationship.

  She first noticed it when she picked him up
at the airport. Usually he would be excited about the medical advances he had learned about, anxious to share the experience with her, but not that day, she later recalled.

  She had been so glad to see him. She rushed into his arms. He hugged her, saying, “Good to be home. I’m bushed!” He threw his bag and briefcase into the back seat of the car, climbed into the passenger side seat, then he leaned over to kiss her.

  “Good conference?” Leanne had asked as she moved the car forward onto the exit ramp.

  Don wiped his face with both hands as if to erase the weariness and stress he was feeling. He took a deep breath before he answered her.

  “It was okay.”

  “Learn a lot of new material?”

  “Not really. Rather disappointing…not a lot of groundbreaking ideas. Only a few fresh concepts for the usage of stem cells. Quite a bit of info on laws…that kind of thing.”

  “Sorry you were disappointed, Don. You usually get so much out of these conferences.”

  “I know, but sometimes…well, some are better than others. Really thought I’d get a lot out of this one, but…”

  Turning to face her, he’d asked, “The kids all right?”

  “Yes, they’re fine. Might be home this weekend. At least Jane will be, not sure ’bout Curt…something about a project he’s working on.”

  “I understand how that is. Be good to see both of them.”

  He’d puffed out his cheeks and let out a long, drawn-out sigh. Leanne took a quick look at her husband.

  “You feeling all right, Don?”

  “Just tired. Long hours sitting in meeting halls, tiresome at times, even with coffee breaks.”

  “Well, we’ll be home soon and dinner is almost ready. You probably want a shower and a good night’s rest in your own bed.”

  Concentrating on her driving, she had missed the guilty look that came over Don’s face.

  * * *

  “Great dinner, Leanne. As usual, you’re one fine cook.”

  “Go on up; I’m going to clean up things around here.”

  “Bring the wine when you come. As tired as I am, need something to take the edge off.”

  “Will do, not to worry,” she’d replied.

  While storing leftovers in the refrigerator, scraping pots and pans and placing them and the rinsed tableware into the dishwasher, she remembered thinking how happy she was to have her husband back home. Can’t wait for a fantastic night of loving! A week is too long!

  Her chores finished, she had taken a bottle of wine from the refrigerator and tucked it under her arm.

  Picking up the glasses, she’d raced up the stairs. As she reached the top of the stairs, she could smell the soap fragrance from her husband’s shower lingering in the air. My man is waiting for me!

  Leaving the wine and glasses on the hall table, she’d hurried into the bathroom, washing her face, brushing her teeth and putting on a pricey nightgown she had purchased just for this night. It was white silk, cost a pretty penny from the top lingerie shop in town, but she didn’t care. It was high waisted and fell in deep folds. She had almost felt like a bride, hoping Don would see and treat her that way.

  * * *

  With the cool, silk folds cascading down her eager, excited body, she thought, You nut! You’ve been married twenty-five years! Picking up the wine and glasses from the hall table, she entered the dark room, expecting that Don would be sitting up, probably reading, waiting for her. But his back was turned to her. He was fast asleep.

  Leanne remembered being dismayed and disappointed as she slipped into the bed. She had nestled against his back and stroked his arm. His body was warm, firm, but he did not stir. She kept caressing his arm. Feeling a slight movement, she whispered, “Go back to sleep, honey. It’s all right, go back to sleep.”

  He groaned and slowly turned to face her. He did not open his eyes, but he kissed her.

  “Love, Lee,” he murmured sleepily. She continued to caress him. Then he fitfully flung his arm across her body. She held him as he began to snore loudly. This man is exhausted! What a week he must have had.

  CHAPTER 9

  Friendly and cordial, Alisha Morton’s parents were pleased to meet their only child’s friend…a physician.

  “Pleasure to meet you,” John Morton said, shaking Don’s hand. His hand was firm and strong. This did not surprise Don, as Alisha had told him that her father was a retired steelworker. He had reddish-brown hair, and a graying, well-trimmed beard, reminding Don of the late comedian, Redd Foxx.

  “Please, sir,” he said, “may I introduce you to my wife?”

  A tiny woman, Don could see the mother-daughter resemblance to Alisha. Mrs. Morton’s spoke in a subdued voice, “I’m happy to meet you, Doctor. Welcome to our home.”

  Leaning forward, Don pecked her cheek. “Thanks, Mrs. Morton.”

  “You are welcome anytime,” she said.

  During the introductions, Alisha stood close to Don, smiling broadly. She turned to her father.

  “Dad, why don’t you show Don around the house? It’s his pride and joy,” she told Don.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Come on along. I’ll give you a tour. I know the womenfolk have last-minute details for our dinner.”

  Mr. Morton led Don from the oak paneled hallway into a living room on the left.

  A medium-sized room with a bay window overlooked a side porch. A large red plush sofa with several black and gold pillows had been placed near a red fireplace.

  On a coffee table in front of the sofa were magazines, several glass ashtrays, as well as four wine glasses on a silver tray.

  Queen Anne chairs, a wooden rocker, a few tables with lamps added to the homey, friendly feel of the room, easing some of the tension Don had been experiencing.

  “Here’s our dining room,” Mr. Morton announced as he opened a pair of wooden doors that separated the two rooms.

  Hardwood floors and a gleaming mahogany table set with candles, flowers, and damask linens, with a companion mahogany buffet with an ornate silver tea set, spoke to Don of the Mortons’ pride in the elegant atmosphere of their home.

  As if to confirm Don’s perception, without apology Mr. Morton told his guest, “We were the first black family to move into this part of the city. Now there’s a lot of black families here, but from the outside you’d never know it, would you?”

  “No, I wouldn’t.”

  “Folks take pride in their property. Most have made lots of improvements. Now even some folks of the other persuasion are moving back.”

  “That so?”

  “Yep. Want to be back here in the old part of the city, close to downtown businesses, you see.”

  “That’s interesting, sir.”

  “Right. Change is always coming. And when you’re dead, they’re throwing dirt in your face, so you may as well live life to the fullest, I say.”

  “You’re right, sir. Today is all you have, so make the most of it.”

  “You got that right, son!”

  * * *

  When they moved through the kitchen, Alisha was making a large salad and her mother was at the oven, basting a large turkey.

  “Sure smells good in here,” Don said, following his host out the backdoor to an enclosed porch. “I believe home cooking is the best.”

  “Wait till we get to eatin’,” Mr. Morton said. “You’re in for a treat, my man!”

  He followed the older man out to a glassed-in porch with bamboo chairs and a sofa, with color-splashed cushions and pillows. The late sun was filtering through the windows. The room was warm and pleasant.

  “We’ll wait out here. The womenfolk will call us when they’re ready.”

  Then he asked, “How long have you known my daughter?’

  “Alisha has been on my staff for, oh, I would guess three or four years. I’m not sure.”

  “Good nurse?”

  “The best, Mr. Morton. Keeps everything running smoothly.”

  “Always was a hard
worker. Once she sets her mind to do something, there’s no stopping my daughter.”

  The pride on the man’s face was not lost on Don. The man was proud of his only child…and rightly so.

  “So, tell me, what kind of doctor are you?”

  “I’m what some people call a primary physician or internist. Most of my patients have medical problems: high blood pressure, heart disease, diabetes. That sort of thing.”

  “Probably old people like me,” Mr. Morton chuckled.

  “Well,” Don replied, “we try to do all in our power to keep folks like you well. You seem to be in good shape, sir.”

  The older man sighed, and Don sensed that there was trouble on his mind.

  “Expect you’ve noticed how quiet my wife is…”

  “Well, I did, but thought maybe shyness was part of her nature, and you know meeting someone new is usually uncomfortable for shy people.”

  “Oh, no, Maribel was always a lively one. Had to run to keep up with her. But it was my daughter who noticed the change. Expect that’s why she tries to get home as often as she can. Said her mother ought to be seen by a doctor.”

  “And?”

  “Some sort of memory loss, they said, after they put her through a lot of tests.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, sir. Is she on medication?”

  Responding to the sympathy in Don’s voice, he pointed to the gold wedding band on Don’s finger.

  “I see that you are a married man, have a wife, so you know that when your better half is ailing, you feel it, too. In fact, wish it could be you and not her. Right?”

  Don nodded soberly.

  “Doc, I’m afraid no medicine is goin’ to fix what’s wrong with my wife.”

  “I’m very, very sorry. Hope having me here for dinner…”

  “Oh no, that’s no problem. She’s happy to do this…makes her feel useful.”

  Shaken by the news of Maribel’s diagnosis, Don wondered. Already he knew he was drawn to Alisha, but for the moment had not a clue as to how things were headed.

  As if by some kind of parental intuition, Alisha’s father spoke, his eyes directed at his dinner guest.