by Janice Lynn
Jamie glanced toward her screaming daughter, then at Melissa. Horror filled her moist eyes. “I’ve gotten blood all over your pretty dress.”
Despite the sinking feeling in her gut, Melissa held her expression in place. She hadn’t given her dress a thought when she’d hugged Jamie and she wouldn’t add to the woman’s guilt.
“It’s OK. It’ll wash.”
But not in time for her dinner with James.
She quickly assessed Amanda’s injuries and calculated how long it would take. No way would she have Amanda sewn up and out of the office in time to make it home by six. Probably not by seven.
She glanced at her watch. Only minutes till six.
“I’m going to change into scrubs and decent shoes.”
“Jamie, I need you to keep pressure on Amanda’s knee while Debbie sets up a suture tray. Debbie, I’ll need number four ethilon and, let’s go ahead and give Amanda five milligrams of Valium to calm her down a bit.”
Valium reminded her that she hadn’t called to check on Wilma that afternoon, as she’d promised. She made a mental note to do so from her cell phone while driving home.
Melissa slipped into her bathroom and changed from the stained dress into a pair of blue scrubs. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Gone was the excitement that had shone in her eyes at Peggy Williams’s salon.
She loved her job, loved her patients, but she’d wanted to go home, to see desire flare in James’s eyes when he looked at her, for him to see her as she would have looked and to want her with a passion that couldn’t be subdued.
He’d be upset. She didn’t blame him. Why would a good man like James keep putting up with a woman who was never there for him? And the reality of it was that she wasn’t. Not that she’d realized it or meant it to happen, but James deserved better. And smart women like Dr Kristen Weaver were waiting to give it, and more, to him.
Knowing she didn’t have time to dwell on the emotions swirling in her stomach, not when a little girl was bleeding, Melissa left the bathroom and picked up her phone.
Time to let James know she’d be late.
James surveyed the scene he’d set and liked what he saw. Last night, he’d gone about things all wrong. He’d realized that today.
Actually, Kristen had helped him to see the truth of the matter. She’d gawked when he’d said that he’d gone from telling Melissa he was moving out to saying they were going to get married. She’d pointed out that no woman would accept a shotgun marriage proposal that came on the heels of being dumped.
It struck him that he really hadn’t proposed. He’d announced they were getting married. Melissa was way too independent for that to fly. Plus, she deserved the romance of him getting on his knees and asking her to share his life.
He hadn’t planned to marry, but under the right circumstances marriage to Melissa could be good. Sure, the thought of becoming a parent scared the hell out of him, but he’d deal with it. He had no choice.
He inspected the deck once again, mentally checking off each detail. Melissa’s favorite CD played low in the background. A dozen citronella candles burned in their various posts on the deck, but he’d placed a chunky beeswax candle in the center of the picnic table so the scent wouldn’t interfere with their dinner.
He’d covered the table with a white cloth and set it with skills his mother had taught him at a young age. He’d picked up chicken breasts and thrown them on the grill about twenty minutes ago, letting them cook slowly. Vegetables steamed in the kitchen and were almost ready to be served. He’d even gotten a bottle of non-alcoholic cider champagne and had it chilling on the table.
It looked like a seduction scene. Not that that’s what he was going for. He wanted to romance Melissa, not seduce her.
He patted his pocket, feeling the outline of the square jeweler’s box. Tonight was all about romance. Now the one being romanced just had to do her part and come home.
On cue, the phone rang.
James glanced at his watch. Five minutes till six.
Denial punched him in the stomach, causing acid to bubble up his throat. No, she wouldn’t, he thought, entering the house and seeing her name on the caller ID.
He couldn’t bring himself to pick up the phone, as if not answering would somehow prevent her from canceling on their plans. She’d looked sincere that morning when she’d agreed to be home by six.
The answering machine came on. Melissa’s voice filled the room.
“James, I’m not going to make it home until later tonight. An emergency’s come up with a patient. I’m sorry. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
Damn. She’d done it to him again.
How many times did it have to happen for him to know that he wasn’t important to her?
Not that he believed she didn’t care, but she didn’t care enough. Not to where she could ever put his needs first.
Was this what their child would face time and again? Mommy not showing up for ball games and ballet recitals because a patient needed her?
Resolute, James walked back onto the deck and began blowing out candles. The box in his pocket burned through his slacks, scorching his skin, mocking him.
No more. He couldn’t take this and Melissa was so caught up in her career that she didn’t see what was happening. He dug into his pocket, fished out the box, and dropped it onto her place setting. Let her see what she’d lost when she came home to an empty house.
He was through playing second fiddle.
With that, he grabbed a few garbage sacks from the kitchen, walked into their bedroom, and began emptying his clothes drawers.
Perhaps it was too late for them to salvage their relationship other than to share custody of their baby. But maybe he could jolt her into waking up to reality before she tossed their child’s needs aside, the way she continuously did his.
CHAPTER FOUR
“SO, HOW did last night go?” Debbie asked with a sly grin when she walked into Melissa’s office the next morning. Without waiting for an answer, she dropped the charts she carried onto the corner of Melissa’s desk. “You sure don’t look like you got any sleep.”
Melissa opened her mouth but nothing came out.
Eyes narrowing, Debbie looked at her more closely. “Actually, you look like you cried all night.”
There would be a reason for that.
When she didn’t answer, Debbie placed her hand on Melissa’s shoulder.
Biting her lower lip, Melissa fought tears she’d have sworn she’d exhausted during the long hours of the night. She couldn’t cry. Not now. She was at the office.
“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.” Debbie squeezed her shoulder. “What did he say?”
Melissa stifled her pain. What was she doing? Self-pity wouldn’t accomplish a thing. She’d learned that early on in the foster-care system. She sucked in a deep breath and pasted on what she hoped was a plausible smile.
“He was gone when I got home. No big deal.”
“No big deal?” Her friend looked confused. “Hello? Are we in denial or what? We’re talking about the man you love that you were going to fight to keep.”
“I was going to fight for him, but apparently he knows what he wants, and it’s not me.” She kept a tight leash on the pain ricocheting through her. “I’d never force James into anything he doesn’t want.”
Debbie stared a long time, then shook her head. “I shouldn’t have called last night. I should have taken Amanda to the ER myself.”
“That’s not your job.”
“No, and it’s not your job to always be available either.” Debbie let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry for the role I played in this.”
Melissa shook her head. Debbie hadn’t known the significance of last night. “None of this is your fault and if you hadn’t called me on Amanda, I’d have been upset. You did the right thing.”
Debbie didn’t look sure. “Did I?”
“Yes,” Melissa answered, knowing in her heart that she told the truth. Amanda
had needed her and Jamie had already had a rough day at the surgeon’s office. “Dr Arnold will be doing a biopsy on Jamie’s breast this afternoon. Poor thing.”
Debbie stared at her strangely. “Are you OK?”
Her heart cried that she wasn’t. Admitting that wouldn’t accomplish anything except to earn Debbie’s pity. She’d had her lifetime’s fill of pity. She’d focus on work and she would be fine. It’s what she’d always done.
“James leaving hurts, but life goes on.” Knowing Debbie was watching her, Melissa picked up the charts and quickly dealt with reviewing the lab results. No more self-pity. No more tears. Not at the office, at any rate. Time enough for wallowing when she crawled into her big, empty bed tonight.
And every night to follow.
“What do we have on schedule for this morning?” she asked, eager to bury herself in distractions and escape Debbie’s perplexed gaze.
The nurse shook her head, disappointment shining in her brown eyes. “You’re double booked where we rescheduled yesterday afternoon’s appointments. Room one is Riley Stokes with heartburn and indigestion. Room two is Mamie Thomas with bilateral foot numbness. Room three is Delilah Evans with upper respiratory symptoms.”
“Guess I’d better get started, then.” Grateful for the busy morning, Melissa grabbed her stethoscope, blamed her nausea on pregnancy, and headed to check on Riley Stokes.
Ten minutes later, she wrote out his prescription. “You have gastroesophageal reflux disease and esophagitis. That’s where the acid in your stomach washes up into your esophagus. The esophagus isn’t designed to handle the acid and it causes erosion of the tissue, which is why you hurt. The medicine I’m giving you is a proton pump inhibitor and it will decrease the amount of acid your stomach makes. It’ll help the erosions to heal. Remember, though, you need to cut back on the spicy foods and don’t lie down for at least an hour after you eat. Debbie will bring you a handout with other tips.”
Mamie Thomas’s foot numbness wasn’t as simple to treat. Mrs Thomas suffered from non-insulin-dependent diabetes, also known as type 2 diabetes, and had for at least thirty years. Unfortunately, she didn’t adhere to a low-carbohydrate, high-protein diet and only took her medications sporadically.
Upon examination, Melissa found macerated skin between Mrs Thomas’s toes and large callus formations. Using an instrument that looked like a hairbrush bristle, she checked Mrs Thomas’s sensation. Not good. The diabetic couldn’t even tell that the tine had touched her foot.
“Mrs Thomas, you have peripheral neuropathy that is caused by your diabetes. When your blood sugar runs high, it causes damage to the nerve endings. Over time, enough damage can occur to cause numbness.”
“Can you fix it?” the elderly lady asked.
“No, I can’t. However, if you’ll take your medicines, it will help keep it from getting worse. There are also medicines that help to ease the accompanying burning sensation.” She patted Mrs Thomas’s hand. “I’m going to arrange for you to see a podiatrist, that’s a doctor who specializes in feet. There’s one in Dekalb, so your daughter won’t have to drive you to Nashville.”
The rest of Melissa’s morning flew by, as did the afternoon. Not wanting to go home, she drove to Dekalb to check on Wilma. The mostly recovered widow had been released that morning to prepare for her husband’s funeral the following day.
For the first time in weeks Melissa had nothing to keep her from going home.
She didn’t want to go home. Didn’t want to face the reality that James wouldn’t be coming back.
Since she was already in Dekalb, she grabbed a yogurt and a bottle of water from a deli and then went to pick up household supplies.
She wound up in the baby section.
Browsing through the aisle, she touched this and read that. A soft floppy-eared rabbit with big oval eyes caught her attention and she picked it up, hugged it, and her eyes welled up.
The rabbit rode back to Sawtooth. Shopping bags and stuffed animal in hand, she entered the quiet house, wishing she’d left lights on that morning.
Lesson learned. Coming home to a dark, empty house was worse than coming home to an empty house.
Oh, who was she kidding? It was all bad.
Setting the rabbit on the counter, she put her other items away.
“Looks like it’s just you and me tonight,” she told the rabbit as she poured herself a glass of water. Not wanting to face the bed she’d shared with James, she hugged the stuffed animal, flipped on the outdoor light, and went through the French doors to sit on the deck.
And stopped short.
A white tablecloth covered the picnic table. Dew had settled onto the surface and a couple of bright leaves contrasted starkly against the tablecloth. A wheat-colored beeswax candle sat between two place settings. But it was the rectangular box on one of the plates that held her attention. A velvet-covered jeweler’s box.
Her insides shaking, she picked it up. The soft fuzzy covering felt damp in her hands. Her knees wobbled and she dropped into the closest chair.
Taking deep breaths and clinging to the stuffed rabbit, she opened the box and, despite knowing what it had to contain, she gave a strangled cry at what she saw.
A diamond ring.
An engagement ring.
James had bought her a ring.
She glanced around the candle-lined deck. She hadn’t been the only one who had prepared for a special evening last night. James had bought her a ring and had planned to ask her to marry him. For real.
Then he’d left.
Left and taken his clothes.
Left to make the point that she’d put him off when he’d told her he needed her to be home.
Left the ring he was no longer willing to slip on her finger.
James closed the door to the doctors’ lounge and was grateful to find the room empty. His insides ached too much to exchange pleasantries.
A newborn with respiratory syncytial virus had come into the emergency room. The infant had been sent over to the children’s hospital, but the ill baby had reminded him of past failures. Failures that included the woman who would give birth to his flesh and blood.
Melissa’s pregnancy had brought forth enough fresh waves of memories of Cailee, of him walking to her crib, thinking she was sleeping, and discovering something so horrible that it had forever changed the course of his life. Left him prostrate and knowing he never wanted to feel that helpless again. Cailee’s death and his role in it had decided his future. He’d gone into medicine because never again would death snatch away someone so easily on his watch.
And although he’d looked death in the face many times, he hadn’t gotten past losing Cailee and he suspected he never would. He avoided babies for just that reason.
Only time was running out for avoidance. Like it or not, he was Melissa’s baby’s father and he would do right by her.
He leaned against the cold concrete wall, rolling his forehead back and forth.
Three weeks and she hadn’t called. She hadn’t even acknowledged the ring or the fact that he’d left. Was she waiting for him to make the next move? To come home and beg her to take him back on any terms she’d have him?
The worst part was that he longed to do just that.
Maybe he would, except that meant facing issues he didn’t want to face even beyond Cailee. Melissa was pregnant with his baby and was willing to let him walk away. Not only that, she’d given her blessing for him to start a relationship with another woman.
He clenched his fists and without any real force punched the solid wall.
She may as well have taken out a billboard that said he didn’t matter.
Knowing he was a fool, he pulled his cell phone from his scrubs pocket and hit an auto-dial number.
“I thought I told you not to call me,” a pert female voice said without bothering to say hello. He’d called so many times during the past weeks that Melissa’s nurse recognized his cellular number and probably knew it from memory.
> “Then tell me she’s OK.”
A soft sigh, then Debbie said in a resigned voice, “I told you I’d call if there were problems.”
She had, along with telling him to quit calling her and to call Melissa directly. He couldn’t do either.
“She’s OK?”
“OK?” Debbie sighed. “Look, she’s my boss and my best friend—it’s wrong on so many levels for me to be talking to you.”
“I just want to know that she’s OK.”
“She’s pregnant and you dumped her. What else do you want to know?”
Was that how Melissa saw things? What she’d told Debbie had happened?
“I didn’t dump her.”
“Then where are you? Because you sure haven’t been here for her the past couple of weeks, have you?”
Was he wrong? Or being selfish to want Melissa to care more for him? To place value on their relationship? No. He wasn’t. But knowing he needed to stay away and being able to not check on her were two different things.
“She’s eating?”
“Not much.”
“Make her.”
“You should know better than to tell me that.” Right. No one could make Melissa do anything unless it was what she wanted. “If she needs anything, you’ll call?”
“She needs you to come home.”
If only she really did. “I can’t do that.”
“No, I guess you’re too busy.”
Venom dripped from Debbie’s words, giving James pause. Each time he called, Debbie’s tone was full of sarcasm. Leaving had made him the bad guy. He could deal with that because leaving had been the right thing to do, even if he questioned that rightness a thousand times a day.
“Give me your word you’ll call if anything happens.”
“I told you I would. That hasn’t changed.” Debbie paused, then added, “Personally, I think you’re both crazy.”
James closed his cell phone and dropped it back into his pocket. He wouldn’t argue about his foolishness. What kind of man resorted to calling a woman’s best friend just to make sure she was OK?
Not one he liked falling into the same category with, that was for sure.