by Leanne Davis
Erica raised her lips off the infant’s bald head and found Spencer looking right at her. He was watching her with the baby. He must have seen her shut her eyes with longing, and bittersweet pain. Embarrassed, Erica turned and lay the baby back in the bassinet. She finished updating Joelle’s chart as she listened with half an ear to Joelle talking about Trina, Nick’s youngest sister. Trina previously hated Joelle, but seemed to have warmed up a little today. Like she might have been getting convinced that Joelle was now a permanent part of Nick’s life.
Just then, the lactation consultant came in, asking to meet with Nick and Joelle. Erica finished up, and turned to exit. Spencer was leaving too.
“Please don’t leave yet,” Joelle said, her fear of the coming night, and the next eighteen years, showing in her eyes.
Erica and Spencer waited outside in the corridor together. After a few moments, he glanced at her. “So, what is a lactation consultant?”
Erica was startled out of her reverie by Spencer’s voice, but his question made her smile. “Someone to help with breast feeding. There’re numerous factors that can impede its success.”
“Oh.” He was sorry now that he asked.
Finally, Nick stepped out of the room. He glanced around, found Erica and came towards her, his face scrunched in worry.
“What’s wrong?” Erica asked, immediately pushing away from the wall.
“She’s upset. I don’t know what to do.”
“Who’s upset? Joelle?” Erica didn’t wait for an answer. She pushed past Nick, and found Dorothy Zimmer standing near Joelle, the baby on Joelle’s bare breast.
“What’s going on?” Erica asked in a clipped tone.
“She almost has this. The baby’s being a little difficult. We just need her to get latched on and I’m sure Joelle will see this is the best way to feed her baby.”
Erica sighed. Once in awhile, she ran across this. Women who couldn’t or wouldn’t nurse, while other people did not respect the mother’s decision. It rarely involved the lactation consultants. They were usually respectful and a wonderful resource.
“Dorothy, I believe Joelle already indicated she intends to bottle feed.”
“What I just realized, however, is that she didn’t have all the right facts to make the correct decision for her baby.”
“Then realize this: I’m her doctor and I have given her all the right facts. She feels she can’t handle breast feeding. I appreciate your concern for Joelle, but I’ll handle it from here.”
“But she…”
“Get out of here, Dorothy.”
“You can’t do this, Dr. Heathersby.”
“The hell I can’t. She’s my patient. Get out.”
Dorothy sniffed and turned, her long braid bouncing indignantly behind her.
Nick looked on, stunned. Joelle quit crying and pulled her shirt down, before cuddling her baby.
“Thank you, Erica. I should have done that,” said Nick. “I mean, I run a company and yet, I couldn’t seem to get that woman to listen to me, or leave Joelle alone.”
“It’s been a long night and the last thing you two need is getting harassed.”
“Is she right, Erica? Am I being selfish? A bad mother? She said every new mother nowadays nurses.”
Erica took Joelle’s hand. She knew how hard it would be for Joelle to remain stable and act like an ordinary, married mother. “No. Everyone doesn’t. Bottom line is, even if everyone did, it doesn’t matter. You have to do what’s right for you as a mother, considering your lifestyle, as well as your family.”
Nick came to Joelle’s other side. “Erica’s right.”
“Thank you. You’re kinda scary when you get pissed off.”
Erica smiled a tired grin. “I’m going home. If you need anything at all; page me, text me, or call me. I mean it. No more breakdowns that are preventable. You call me.”
“We will. Erica—God, thank you. For everything. For our daughter.”
“Have you named her yet?”
“Jody Lynn Lassiter.”
“Jody. I love it. Good luck tonight, Mom and Dad.”
Erica exited the room. She found Spencer still there, right where she left him. He ducked into Joelle’s room when Erica left. She stopped at the on-call room and changed into slacks and a short-sleeved shirt she came to work in. She grabbed her things and headed towards the elevator, just in time to see Spencer walking out from Joelle’s room.
“Are you done then?” he asked, pressing the down arrow.
“Yes. I’m going home. You?”
“Yeah.” They again stepped into the elevator together, and after a moment, he shifted, looking at her profile.
“Remind me never to piss you off.”
Erica winced. “You heard me with the lactation consultant?”
“The entire floor probably did. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Well, God, Joelle’s all nervous and scared, feeling bad enough, and she’s getting criticized and urged to try something she doesn’t want to. We, the doctors, nurses, and staff are here to help, and guide, not force patients to make decisions. We provide the facts and information, but we can’t make the patients’ choices for them.”
Spencer smiled at her and her heart jumped. He was hot, with smoldering eyes, and a lazy grin. “You get pretty involved with your patients, don’t you?”
“Yes. Sorry to go off like that.”
“No. Don’t be. You’re very passionate here. At work.”
“In contrast to how I appear otherwise?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. I know how I come off.”
He turned and shifted his long, lean body towards her and crossed his arms over his chest. His lips curled as if he were privy to some joke she didn’t know about. “How’s that? How do you come off?”
“Cold. Calm. Serious. Whatever, but not passionate.”
“You don’t come off cold. Just professional. Unless of course, you’re the lactation consultant. Then better watch out.”
Erica cleared her throat, looking embarrassed. She shifted her coat in her hands as she waited for the elevator ride to end. Finally, the bottom floor dinged, and they got out. They headed out together, without touching, to the main exit. Then she turned towards the parking garage. He also turned and started heading the other way.
“Parking garage is this way.”
“I know.”
“Where are you going?”
“Bus stop, Doc. I wasn’t at home when Nick called about Joelle. A friend dropped me here.”
“Don’t you live downtown?”
“Close to. But not waterfront like you.”
“If it’s fairly close to me, I can give you a ride.”
He turned and eyed her suspiciously. “Why would you do that, Doc?”
Why indeed, Doc? She shrugged. “I don’t have a reason. I just offered.”
“I take the bus all the time.”
“Still, I’m offering you a ride.”
He stepped closer to her. He towered over her in a way she wasn’t used to most people doing. His eyes glinted under the streetlights. She remembered then that he was once Spike, and she stepped back. Why couldn’t she leave well enough alone?
“Okay, Doc, you can give me a ride home.”
Chapter Three
Erica came up to her car, flipping her hair off her shoulder, as she dug around to find her keys. Her raw nerves had her hands fumbling.
“Would you mind driving?”
“Why?”
“I’m a little tired. I was at the hospital all last night too.”
“Of course, you were, Doc. Don’t you always work?”
“Maybe. Would you mind?”
“No. I didn’t work at all,” he said. She couldn’t explain it, but she found it hard to function properly being so close to this man. She tossed the keys his way, went around to the passenger side and got into her car. He slid into the driver’s seat, being careful not t
o bump his head, as he waited for the electric seat to slide all the way back. He was so tall, his knees came up high, nearly hitting the console.
“How tall are you?”
He glanced her way. “Six-four. And no, I’ve never played basketball. That’s everyone’s second question.”
He started her car, which purred to life. He shifted the stick, and slid the car out with surprising speed, nearly peeling out as he took off.
“This car is like driving on silk. Sure you’re okay with me at the wheel?”
“Yes, other than I don’t usually leave skid marks.”
“No racing?” His lips quirked up to the side. Her heart bumped inside her chest in response. He was way too young, and way too hot for his own good.
“No racing.”
He worked the clutch, easily shifting gears, while sliding the low slung car over the hills and traffic of Seattle. Somehow, he made her little car seem sexy, where usually, it just seemed small and white.
“How long have you been out of work?” Erica asked. She felt like she was groping and searching for something to say, anything to fill the silence of her car, her suddenly too small, too tight car.
“Just got laid off. Times suck.”
“Does Joelle know?”
“I didn’t tell her. She tries to get me on at the Lassiter empire anytime I mention jobs.”
“Why don’t you? Nick pays well.”
“I know. But Nick’s also married to my best friend’s wife. Gets a little complicated. Rob wouldn’t be too happy if I came home working for Nick too.”
“But if you need the job, surely, your friend would understand.”
“It’s hard enough I like Nick so much. I can’t work for him too.”
“Rob seems like he demands a lot from you.”
“I met Rob at my darkest moment, and he saved my life. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for Rob.”
Erica looked at Spencer’s profile, surprised at his suddenly serious tone. What was his darkness? What did his blank looks hide? What dark place spawned the creation of Spike? Or his strange loyalty to Rob Williams?
Spencer turned his head and caught her staring. She turned away and looked out the windshield as silence settled over the car. Exhausted, having not slept in two nights, the lulling motion of the car made her feel like she suddenly wilted. She must have nodded off, because suddenly, the car braked before pulling into a driveway. Erica woke up, startled. It took her a moment to orient herself.
“I fell asleep?”
“Yeah, within a matter of minutes. When did you last sleep?”
“Two nights ago.”
“Are you okay to get yourself home? I can drive you, and take the bus back here. I won’t be going to bed for hours anyway.”
“That kind of defeats the purpose of giving you a ride home. No. Thanks though. I’m used to it.”
“You want a coffee or something? Caffeine might help.”
Did she? Erica’s mind was fuzzy. Groggy. Maybe that would be a good idea. And maybe because she wasn’t quite ready to part with Spencer’s company. Something about the man beside her attracted her. Intrigued her. Why? She wasn’t sure. But knew it was so.
“Okay.”
Erica inventoried the house Joelle used to share with Rob, Spike, and the rest of their band. She had never seen it before, but expected to find a disaster by all accounts. Now it looked small, quaint, old, and plain. And clean. The grass was mown. It was a boxy two story house with a plain front door. Nothing remarkable. But nothing sinister or gross either. Spencer, and the recently sober, Rob, lived there now, and the parties and drugs were all gone, not as they were when Joelle formerly lived there.
They both got out of the car and passed through the nearly empty garage. Her surprise at its barren state must have showed in her expression. Seeing it, Spencer waved a hand around and said, “We got rid of almost everything a year or so ago. Everything we didn’t really need; it was part of the cleaning up, and getting sober stuff. You know, look better, feel better, kind of thing? Besides, most of our past lives were crap. Not like either of us had any childhood mementos or sentimental family crap to look after.”
“It’s strange for me to think of Joelle ever living here.”
“You can’t imagine what Joelle lived in! When she was here, it wasn’t anything like this. It might not be fancy now, but at least, it’s clean, and decent. Back then, it was just as messed up as we all were.”
She followed Spencer through the garage into the utility room, and down a hallway into the kitchen, which opened up into the dining and living rooms.
The colors were very dated and the kitchen in dire need of modernization. The living room was empty, but for a couch and flat screen TV/entertainment center. Everything was painstakingly neat, and all of it utilitarian. They seemed afraid to bring anything resembling clutter inside.
Erica tried several times, but failed to picture Joelle actually living here. Spencer went over to a black coffee maker on the counter. He grabbed the ground coffee beans and was putting them in when the door unexpectedly opened, and in walked Rob Williams.
Erica froze. So did Rob. Behind him were two men whom she recognized as Kenny and Mitch, their former band members. She instantly regretted coming there. What was she doing there, at this house, with a damn rock band, of all things? And recovering, former drug addicts? Okay, maybe not still drug addicts, but all the same, a faster crowd than Erica ever ran around with. She was way too old, much too grown up, and far too prim and conservative for this kind of crowd.
Rob’s eyes widened with surprise. He stood several inches shorter than she, his arms covered in tattoos, his hair thick and shaggy, and his face covered by a scruffy, short beard. He was well-built, wiry, and tightly muscled. He looked sexy in a careless, rock star, different kind of way. A way Erica wasn’t used to, much less, comfortable with.
She backed up, hitting the counter with her back. Her throat felt dry and an awkward silence screamed its presence between them. She tried to swallow her nerves.
“You’re Nick’s old girlfriend, aren’t you? And Joelle’s friend? The doctor?” Rob was studying her. Puzzlement instantly appeared on his face as he looked at her more closely, then over at Spencer who suddenly straightened up and was stepping nearer to her. She felt inexplicably glad he did.
Rob still hated her because she was the reason from long ago why Joelle never returned to him. She gave Joelle a place to stay when she had nowhere else to go. Now Erica trembled slightly with fear for doing that favor. Rob must still hate her. For knowing Nick. For helping Joelle. And for being involved in the situation that left Rob divorced and without a band.
“Yes. I am.”
Rob stared at Erica, then up at Spencer, whose arm now rested on the counter behind her. He was deliberately not touching her, but remaining near and was surprisingly, comforting. His proximity made her heart flutter strangely. “I see,” he said, but Erica heard the negative undertones to his voice.
“Joelle had her baby tonight,” Spencer told him, finally.
“Ah, I see. And you delivered it. How then is it she came here to my house? For that matter, why would Joelle’s best friend come to my house?”
Erica also wondered that. She opened her mouth to defend herself with a hasty explanation that she delivered Joelle’s baby and drove Spencer home, but Spencer spoke first.
“What the hell do you care?”
There were definite undertones here. Big ones. Ones Erica preferred not to know about. She certainly did not want to witness his annoyance, or possibly, anger. And of course, Rob’s jaw visibly tightened at hearing about his ex-wife having a baby with the man she left him for. Of course, Rob was pissed off. Of course, he didn’t want Erica at his house. And she was really stupid to come in.
Behind Rob, Kenny and Mitch walked into the kitchen and they all stared at her. She felt a strange wave of trepidation, as if she were being gawked over. Her presence was obviously not welcome, and definitel
y becoming an issue as Rob and Spencer seemed to be involved in a silent stand-off. There was a lot of testosterone in that kitchen; and it felt intimidating. It was a different kind of maleness than she was used to, which was suits, money, and refined conversation. Men like Nick Lassiter. These men, however, were rockers. They were all daunting to her in their own ways, the worst being Rob.
“Can I talk to you a minute?” Rob asked Spencer, his voice tightly controlled.
“Fine. I’ll be right back,” Spencer said, as he stepped around Erica and followed Rob. Erica had no idea what that might be about, but she sensed profundity. Undercurrents she couldn’t, for the life of her, read. She was left alone with Kenny, an overweight, sloppily dressed drummer with unkempt hair, and stained, much too large-sized clothes. Next to him was Mitch, a body builder who seemed almost comical with his freakishly overbuilt arms and chest. They were both glaring at her unapologetically.
“I should go,” Erica said suddenly, their expressions prodding her to get out of there. They were both staring at her with visible distaste, and a weird gleam in their eyes.
“So you’re that bitch who helped Joelle ditch Rob, right?”
She tried to pass around Kenny without answering him. Kenny was drunk. There was no mistaking the rank smell of alcohol on him, which nearly burned her nostrils.
That quickly, Mitch grabbed her arm as she passed him. She had never been grabbed or held against her will before by any man; and was startled at how quickly it happened. In no time at all, she was under the man’s control.
“Yeah, you are. You’re that pussy doctor that Joelle ran off to live with.”
She bristled. Pussy doctor? God, didn’t they even know how to read or write? She didn’t answer. Silence seemed much better.