by S. E. Lund
I loved my job.
I never thought I'd want to work in the ER, preferring the calm and steady world of the neuro OR, but I did. I found it exhilarating to enter a room and try to figure out what was going on with a new patient. When I was pulled into a neuro consult, it could be for any number of reasons – a stroke, an aneurism, a traumatic brain injury, epilepsy, you name it. It kept me on my toes in a way that a very predictable and regular office practice and surgery practice didn't. I had to be ready to see anything and intervene on the fly when a patient decompensated.
Maybe there was a bit more of my trauma surgeon father in me than I realized. Maybe I was becoming less and less of a control freak.
If so, I credited it all to Kate and how she gave me what I really needed – love and a family.
I chatted with a few of the ER residents, enjoying their enthusiasm for their latest rotation and we talked about the cases we'd dealt with the previous night. I seemed to take on a natural teaching role with the residents and was happy to give my opinions on cases and make suggestions as well as offer encouragement.
Earlier in the evening, I'd texted Kate to see how she and Sophie were doing. Ethan and Elaine were at our place for supper.
KATE: Things went well today. I loved the studio space and can't wait to get set up in it. How is work?
DRAKE: Exciting, as usual. Who would have thought? I figured it would be too much excitement for an old neurosurgeon like me, but I love it. It's a real challenge.
KATE: Good. I'm glad you're enjoying it. I hope it doesn't burn you out. You're keeping quite a pace...
DRAKE: I'm off for a couple of days so I can rest up and spend time with my girls.
During a break, I went to the cafeteria and bought my supper, which consisted of a chef's salad and some yogurt, and sat by myself, reading over the paper while I ate. I was absorbed in a story when one of the staff physicians came over with his tray in hand and stopped my table.
"Drake Morgan, right?" he said and held up his tray. "If I'm not interrupting, do you mind if I join you?"
I pointed to the chair. "Be my guest. I was just finishing up and reading the headlines."
He sat and I saw his name tag, which read Dr. Roger Phillips. He was wearing a lab coat with the hospital logo on the lapel and I vaguely remembered from my orientation that he was an administrator in addition to being a staff physician.
He put his tray down and extended his hand. We shook and introduced ourselves and he began unpacking his sandwich.
"I thought I'd drop by and see how things are going. I haven’t had the chance to sit down with you and have a chat. Markham's taking a leave to do some training in LA so I'm taking over for him and I'll be supervising the Neurosurgery Department. I was also on the review committee for appointments and remembered seeing your application. Markham was eager to hire you, and from your CV, I could see that you were top rate. You seem to be working out well, according to the staff I've spoken to so far."
"I appreciate the interest. If you had anything to do with hiring me, let me say thank you."
He gave me a strange smile. "Well, actually, I didn't," he said and bit into the sandwich. "I was away at a conference the week the decision was made, but I did see your application. I've also been reading about the trial in Manhattan."
I wiped my mouth after swallowing a mouthful of yogurt. "Oh, really?" I shrugged. "Something I'd much rather not have been involved in, believe me."
"So, it's true that the woman who attacked your wife was also involved in the murder of your friend. Richardson, right? A wealthy businessman? We normally have very little drama so this is quite the topic among the staff."
I leaned back and glanced at him, trying to read him but it was hard. He seemed friendly enough, but he brought up the case.
"I had no idea. No one has said anything to me about it, if it's the subject of gossip."
"I asked staff not to talk about it in front of you. Out of respect for your privacy so if you haven’t heard anything, that’s good. I wanted to check to make sure you were doing well and adjusting to things here."
"Yes, I am. I'm really enjoying my work here."
"Good. Like I say, early reports suggest that both the staff and patients like you, so we're glad to have you fill in. So long as there's no intrigue at the hospital, things will work out okay."
"In other words, keep my nose clean and down to the grindstone and I'll be okay?"
"Something like that." He smiled – a self-satisfied smile.
He'd just given me a warning that he and the hospital wouldn’t tolerate any drama on my part. They really must think I was some kind of rogue.
I finished my food and checked my watch. "Well, my break is up so I better get back. Thanks for joining me and for the head's up. I appreciate it."
"No problem. Any time you have any questions or concerns, you come and speak to me."
I took my tray and placed it on the conveyor belt that went into the kitchen dishwasher, and threw the garbage into the trash can and left the cafeteria. As I left, I felt aware for the first time of a few heads that had turned my way. I never thought about it before, assuming I was just a new doctor and people were curious who I was, but now I realized they knew who I was and what was going on back in Manhattan with Lisa and the trial.
Of course, the trial was the topic of national news so they may have recognized me, but when I started working at the hospital over a month earlier, I didn’t think it was that recognition which explained all the turned heads. I thought it was the fact I was a new face.
If I hoped to escape the whole business by traveling across the country and getting a new job, I was wrong. Lisa's attack on Kate and her involvement in Derek's murder had followed me to UCSF Hospital. No doubt the staff had read all about my participation in BDSM and my sexual relationship with the woman who tried to kill my pregnant wife.
What a scandal. I could imagine the staff talking behind my back while I was out of the staff room, and quickly shutting up and smiling at me, acting as if nothing was going on. Phillips warned them not to ask me about it, and that was probably the only reason no one had approached me with questions just yet.
I thought it was because I was free of my past, but I was wrong.
I went back to my desk in the office space I shared with several other ER doctors and read over some patient files, checking on test results and trying to focus on work instead of my personal drama, but it was hard and unsettled me for the rest of my shift. In the back of my mind from that time onward, I felt people's eyes on me and wondered if they knew and what they were thinking.
Kinky Doctor Morgan. Master D. Doctor Dangerous.
I wondered if anyone would say something to me about my past, and hoped they didn’t.
My little talk with Roger Phillips had ruined my peace of mind.
I spent the rest of my shift seeing patients in the ER and popping in to check on patients on the wards and before I knew it, the evening was over and it was time for me to leave and go home to a sleeping Kate and Sophie.
At least I knew I wouldn’t face any drama at home.
I arrived just before four in the morning and parked the car, letting myself into the house as quietly as I could manage. I went to the bedroom to find Kate was asleep with Sophie beside her, sucking intently on her pacifier. The two of them looked so peaceful, I had to smile while I undressed. Before I got into bed, I had a quick shower, scrubbing the day off me, not wanting to bring any germs into my family bed.
After I dried off, I slipped into bed wearing only clean boxer briefs and snuggled next to Kate, trying not to wake up her or Sophie. She stayed asleep, luckily, and so I lay in bed for a while and tried to decompress after the shift. It took me a while, for my mind was caught in thoughts of Roger's conversation with me earlier in the night and how I now felt unsettled.
Would I never be able to work somewhere without my past coming back to haunt me?
Sleep was a long time in coming...
I woke in the morning when Sophie started grousing, clambering around on the bed. When I glanced out from under my pillow, I saw Sophie playing with Kate, sucking on her pacifier and pulling on Kate's locket. As usual, Kate picked up Sophie and took her out of the bed, not wanting to wake me up. It was too late, for I was awake and wanted to say good morning to Kate before I went back to sleep.
"Come back here," I called out. "Give me a kiss you two."
She came around the other side of the bed and sat on the edge, holding Sophie down so she could give me a kiss.
"Kisses," Kate said and I got several wet sloppies from Sophie before a kiss from Kate.
"How are my girls?" I asked, stroking Kate's arm and then Sophie's curls.
"We're fine. Had a nice time with Grandad and Grandma and then slept almost all night. How was your night?"
I tucked my pillow under my head and stroked Kate's hair. "It was good. Busy. The time passed really quickly."
"Anything interesting?"
I nodded. "It's all interesting in the ER. Had a first seizure come in. Typical head injuries from car accidents. An accident at a school playground. A stroke that needed immediate intervention."
"Do you want to get up and have breakfast with us?"
"Sure," I said and sat up in bed. "Might as well."
Kate took Sophie to change her and then after a trip to the bathroom, I went to join Kate in the kitchen. Sophie was sitting in her high chair at the island in the kitchen while Kate squeezed juice and made some French Toast using a loaf of French bread, topping it off with real maple syrup.
While we ate, I talked to her about the studio.
"You'll never guess what I found out," Kate said, raising her eyebrows. "Which artist that we both know is on a national tour, with an exhibit coming up in San Francisco?"
I frowned and chewed on my French Toast. It had to be only one person.
"Sefton."
She nodded, her lips pressed thin. "Yep. He'll be here in two weeks for a week and will be exhibiting in the gallery across the street from my studio."
"Remind me not to visit the gallery that week," I said with a snort.
"I know," she said and stared off in the distance. "I'll have to lay low that week just in case I see him on the street. I do want to go to an opening, but maybe the week before or after he's gone."
I shook my head. "Don't let him keep you from living your life. He has nothing on us and holds no power over you so ignore him. Go to the studio. You have to do what you love and you can’t let other people derail you."
She leaned over and kissed me. "I love you, Dr. Morgan. You're always so reasonable and calm about things. I thought you'd be angry."
I frowned. "Why? You have no control over what he does."
She shrugged. "Of course, but just thinking about him brings back all these bad memories of what happened in Africa."
"Nothing happened in Africa," I said and leaned closer to her, stroking her cheek. "He wanted you and you didn’t want him. He lost. I won." I kissed her lips. "You're mine."
"I am," she said with a smile. "Thankfully. I was afraid that you might have believed what Claire said and turned to Sam for solace."
"Ha!" I said with a laugh. "Not likely. I never felt anything for Sam other than she provided a convenient place to put my dick."
"Drake!" Kate grinned at me, punching me playfully in the shoulder. I mock-grimaced although it didn’t hurt. "The poor girl was infatuated with you."
"I have no control over who finds me irresistible." I leaned over to Sophie and kissed her plump cheek. "Isn't that right, Sophie? You can't resist me either."
Sophie grinned at me, her mouth filled with Cheerios, her cheeks wet with milk.
"Speaking of who finds me irresistible, apparently, people at work are all filled in on the latest gossip about me, or so the new head of the Neurosurgery Department informed me. Roger Phillips took over as head from Vince Markham and told me last night during my supper break."
"What?" Kate frowned, her expression horrified. "People know about the case?"
"Apparently," I said and sopped up the syrup with a hunk of French Toast. "Roger told them to keep it down and not mention it to me. But everyone knows."
"I'm so sorry," she said and leaned in and kissed me tenderly. "They'll realize that you're nothing like the papers portrayed you."
"Really?" I said, only half-jokingly. "The papers portrayed me as, and I quote, a Dashing Devilish Dom, if I recall correctly..."
"You are a Dashingly Devilish Dom, but you are definitely not a Secret Sadist Surgeon," Kate replied, quoting one very notorious gossip columnist.
We laughed together, and it made me feel better to see Kate brush it off, but I still felt uneasy about the staff knowing my personal business. There was nothing I could do about it now, so I decided to just keep my head down and do my job.
We finished our breakfast while Sophie played with her food, managing to eat only half of it. The rest ended up on the floor or on top of her head. I helped clean up after breakfast, then I kissed Kate and Sophie and went back to bed, needing a couple of hours sleep if I hoped to make it through another night at work.
Despite being tired, I tossed and turned, my mind still caught up in the meeting with Roger and the way staff looked at me – or the way I realized staff had been looking at me since I started my new job. It ruined what had been a great shift.
There was nothing I could do about it so I tried to shut off my mind and fall back asleep but once again, it was a long time coming.
Chapter 3
KATE
Drake went back to work just before three that afternoon, and on my part, I packed up the car with boxes of my supplies and canvases. Before I left, I put Sophie in her car seat and drove to my father's place down the highway. I wanted to go back to the studio but didn't want my father to have to make the trip. It was an hour there but I didn't mind.
After I dropped Sophie with Elaine and my dad, I drove up the coast to the studio and parked on the street outside. For the next few minutes, I unloaded boxes, carrying them into the building one at a time. Before I was finished, a guy about my age saw me struggling with some canvases and offered to help.
"You're the new tenant?" he asked, taking a couple of canvases up the stairs.
"Yes," I said and we stopped on the landing. "I'm Kate."
He extended his hand. "Marco," he said. "I'm in the studio across the hall."
We shook hands and it was slightly awkward. "I see you do naturalist art," he said and held out one of my unfinished canvases featuring an elephant drinking out of a waterhole.
"Yes, I went on an art safari in Kenya and started the series last year."
"Cool," he said. "I do acrylics. Urbanscapes."
When I frowned in confusion, he added. "The urban landscape."
"I'd love to see your work," I said, eager to meet other artists in the building and become part of a community."
"Come on over when you can. I'm right across from you. I share my studio space with my girlfriend, Serena. We'll be having some hot tea soon and you're welcome to join us."
"Hot tea?"
"She's British. They drink hot tea. I got in the habit."
"I love hot tea," I replied. "My mother was from Poland and they drink a lot of it."
I smiled, glad that he was attached so that there'd be no misunderstanding about my intentions or his.
"Sounds great."
We finished carrying up the boxes and canvases and I went into my studio and he into his.
I closed the door and stood in the empty space, glancing around, imagining it once I had everything settled. I turned around in a circle. The room was bright because of the west-facing windows, but it was indirect light and filled the room. Overhead incandescent lights added to the brightness. Several of my blank canvases leaned against one wall. I was eager to finish my current work and move on to my other plans.
There was a workbench against one wall w
ith a shelf. I could stack my paints and brushes and other paraphernalia there. I needed to go to the local art supply store for some fresh paint thinner and a few other supplies before I could get started. I wanted to get a high stool so I could sit at the workbench and use my computer if I wanted. Plus, I wanted a small television so I could watch news if I wanted while I worked.
For the next hour, I unpacked my supplies and tried to arrange them in some logical fashion, and then wrote down a list of what other supplies I'd need. I decided to leave and do some shopping. I could return the next day and maybe get my easel set up and start back on my current work in progress.
I picked up my unfinished painting and studied it in the bright light from the window. The elephant was sketched in and half-painted. Beside it, I'd sketched in a wildebeest, which stood knee-deep in the water, a white bird on its back. In the distance was a copse of baobab trees, their spindly branches reaching up towards the white-blue sky. The white hot African sun beat down on the scene. I could almost feel the heat from memory, smell the dust, hear the wind whipping through the tall grass.
I was pleased with the painting so far and with the studio space, I couldn't wait to get back to work on it. In fact, I couldn't have asked for a more perfect setup. The only thing missing was a sound system so I could listen to music while I worked.
I checked my watch which read close to 4:30 P.M. and so I decided to pop over to check out Marco's space and see what he meant by urbanscapes. I grabbed my bag and locked the door, then went across the hall to his studio, knocking on the door hesitantly. I still felt a bit nervous meeting new people but he seemed nice.
The door opened and a woman in paint spattered blue-jean overalls answered, her dark hair pulled back with a blue head band, long braids falling over her shoulders. She smiled at me.
"You're Kate, right?" she said with a slight British accent.
"Yes, I am. You must be Serena."
She opened the door and ushered me in.
"Marco told me you might pop by. Come in. We have some tea brewing if you want some."